The View of A Hijacked Boy: Mockingjay
by BRIGHTSIDEash
Summary: Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View! Better if you have read The View of A Baker's Boy, and The View of A Victor Boy.
1. Chapter 1

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Here we are again! This one took longer than usual, because it was rather difficult piecing together the few bits we get to know about Peeta's time in jail! _

_Thank you for those people who Beta Read this chapter for me, you were all a great help! :) _

_Warning: There is violence in this chapter. _

Chapter One

The cells are dark and gloomy, with just a bed, a sink and a toilet. The doors are bars, so that our captors can always see us when they walk past our cells. It also makes it easier to talk to the person in the next cell, who is Johanna in my case. I haven't been in the cells long; they had been keeping me in our old twelfth floor in the Training Center for a few weeks. I think the choice of placement had been President Snow's idea. They'd kept me there up until the first Interview, wanting me clean and healthy. That Interview with Ceasar had just been the beginning; they'd been trying to get information out of me, find out what I knew about that last night in the arena. But I don't know what happened. I only know that Katniss and I got separated, that things had gotten confusing and I went in search of her, finding Chaff instead. Watching Chaff die at the hands of Brutus, and being so angry that I killed Brutus myself. Before the Interview, President Snow had taken me aside and told me I must do my best to make Katniss and her band of followers to stop their madness. I told him I would call for a ceasefire, if he promised to keep Katniss alive. After some arguing, he had finally agreed. Almost immediately after the Interview, I had been escorted down here, none too gently.

There are no windows, and I am certain that we are underground. No way to tell how long they've been keeping us captive. Johanna is worse off than me; she's been in the cells from the moment they had picked her up. The only use they have for Johanna is getting information from her, and now this is what they want from me. I had tried to get Johanna to tell me what had happened on that final night, because I'm sure she is more clued in than what I had been. She doesn't tell me anything, tells me it is for my own good. I don't understand this until I receive my first visitor.

He's a large, brutish man. I can't tell whether he is a Capitol citizen, because he doesn't look as extravagant as the majority of them. He beats me until my skin is a map of black and blue, asking me who had planned the attack, who was involved, how long has Katniss been planning it. At first, I shout at them that I don't know, but after some time I just curl in on myself and hope they don't hit a vital organ. After maybe ten or so of these visits, I start to think that maybe hitting a vital organ might not be so bad. Almost every time, President Snow is stood outside the cell, watching with a hard face and cold eyes. He orders in two more men, who are holding strange metal cylinders with two small prongs on one end. At first, I think they are going to stab me, but each time they press the prongs to my body, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.

"She left you Peeta, there is no use protecting her any more." I scream in a rage, unable to even form a word, and I lunge at the bars of the cell door. The electricity that shoots through my body sends me into a spasm until I start to feel unconsciousness take over. I wake up and know that I haven't been out for long, because the men are in the next cell. I try to sit up, but hiss at the pain that shoots through my ribs. I lay on the ground panting, forced to listen to Johanna's screams whilst they force her head into a bucket of water, and just when I think they are going to kill her, they pull her up again. Hearing Johanna's screams are worse than my own beatings.

They leave Johanna and disappear, leaving the corridor except for Johanna's ragged breath and the whimpering of a young woman in a cell further down. I manage to crawl across the floor, clinging to the bars that make up the door.

"Johanna," I whisper. I hear her shuffling across the stone ground to her own bars.

"How are you doing?" she mumbles, in obvious pain.

"Where is she, Johanna?" I ask quietly. She sighs.

"I can't say anything Peeta, you know I can't. Especially not here." I press my forehead against the cold bars and close my eyes, allowing Katniss' face to swim across my mind. It kills me to not know where she is, or if she is even safe.

"Did she leave me behind?" I ask in a whisper. She can't have done, I don't believe it … at least I don't think I do. It is President Snow, trying to poison my mind, planting these doubts in my head. Johanna doesn't answer for a long time, and I think she's going to ignore me. She's done it plenty of times since I've been down here, trying to get the answers from her.

"No," she finally says. I glance up and across, to where I think Johanna might be sitting, behind the wall. "The plan was to get everybody out, before the Capitol could react. But they must have been quicker than we anticipated." So in all likelihood, Katniss has been picked up by whoever cooked up the plan. I don't interrogate Johanna further, because I know that it will get us nowhere. Instead, I try to get some sleep.

When I wake, there's a lot of movement in the cell opposite mine. A few guards are moving stuff around, and bringing something in to the cell. I sit up, wincing at the pain in parts of my body, but managing to make it to my feet. I lean against the bars to peer around the guards, looking at what they're setting up. They've brought in a table and laid two odd machines on top of it, with trailing wires. In the middle of the cell there are two chairs side by side.

"Bring in the redheads," one guard says. I'm sure I know who he is talking about, but I don't want to be right. Darius and the other red headed girl had been our Avoxes. Another guard goes to cell on the other side of mine, and yanks open the cell door. I thought I had heard someone moving around in that cell, but couldn't be sure because nobody ever spoke. Now I know why. The guard drags Darius out into the cell opposite mine, dumping him into one of the chairs. Another guard drags the Avox girl down the corridor, making her sit in the second chair.

They hook up the wires to Darius and the girl in what seems like particular points on their body. They both look scared, uncertain what is happening. The small girl is wide-eyed, her gazing darting around her wildly, and settling on me. Something shifts in her eyes, as if she understands something that I do not.

"You're here because we believe you have information on the rebellion, and I have been informed that I must use any means necessary to get that information from you." One guard says, and my hand tightens around the bar I'm holding to. How can they get information from an Avox? Darius looks panicked, knowing that he cannot speak, and that's not really the reason the two of them are in the cell. The girl spits in the guard's face. "Her first," he snaps. There's a second guard stood by the machines, which are whirring to life with the press of a button. The turn of a knob, another button, and the Avox girl is suddenly taken by some kind of seizure, her body stiffening and trembling. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she makes a terrible animal sound. Her head falls back and she stops moving.

"Turn it off!" The first guard barks, but it is too late. "What voltage was that? No, that wasn't what I said!"

"Oh god," Johanna whispers, obviously at the front of her own cell. "Is she... is she dead?" I nod even though she can't see me, unable to take my eyes from the lifeless body, and wish I could so badly.

"Right, we'll just have to use him." The first guard says impatiently, waving towards Darius. "Make sure you turn the voltage down," he adds slowly. They don't want a quick death, they want to torture Darius. I turn away just before they start, not wanting to see it. It goes on for hours, electrocution, hard questions that he has no way of answering, beaten with fists and sticks whilst he moans and coughs up blood. I keep my eyes on the bare walls of my cell, the dirty floor, anywhere but into the cell opposite mine. I realise the reason for this is not just to torture Darius, but to torture me also. They want me to see this, to hear it, to think of nothing else.

The horror finally stops, and we all get our meal of some kind of blended slop. None of us waste the food; we only get one meal a day, and it would be stupid to allow ourselves to waste away at the sake of pride. I want to speak to Darius, to say something to him, but there is nothing that can possibly make him feel better, or cancel out the hours of agony he has just received for my sake.

When I wake again, it is to the sounds of pain from Darius' torture cell, sounds akin to a wounded animal. His face is a pattern of a bruises, his left eye swollen, a gash in his cheek, and his right hand missing. I have to rush across my cell to the small toilet, where I throw up and squeeze my eyes shut. On the end of his right arm is a bloody stump, still leaking blood. His hand has been left on the table. The floor of his cell slowly staining red. Down the corridor comes the shrieking of a girl in one of the cells, who I suspect to be Annie Cresta. I don't know if she is being tortured also, if she is reliving some nightmare, or if it is because of Darius' animalistic cries of pain. The Capitol must have picked up Annie from District Four because of her relationship with Finnick. It's even more sick because everyone knows that Annie is mad; she's no real threat, and no use. She's just bait.

I spend the next two days curled onto my bed with my hands clamped over my ears, trying to block out the sound of Darius' torture. I flood my mind with memories of home, of my family, of Katniss. I wonder what my family are doing, what they have been told by the Capitol, if they are safe. Would I have been told if my family had been killed? I try to think of only good things. After what must have been a few days, the corridor falls eerily silent. Slowly, I lift my hand and look around me, pulling myself back to reality. Only a few minutes ago, I had been trying to ignore Darius' screams, and now there is no sound.

"He's gone." A guard says, and I risk a look.

Darius is no longer recognisable. His shirt has been removed, but most of the skin is covered in blood or bruises, his face is swollen and battered. Chunks of his hair has been pulled out, and there are parts of his body missing. There's a lot of blood on the floor, and a terrible smell in the air. I don't throw up this time. The guards leave, and I panic, thinking they're just going to leave Darius sitting there, to torture me further. I sit in the corner behind my bed, blocking off the view of my cell door, too afraid to look. I know that the guilt will gnaw at me, it's already bouncing around my head. _He's dead because of you, Peeta. He's been tortured for days just for you, to make you feel worse. _

I tilt my head back and close my eyes tightly, attempting to ward off the poisonous thoughts. I fall asleep at some point, and awake feeling stiff, still sitting in the corner. I stretch my legs out in front of me, because my right leg is tingling from the lack of movement. The left leg is still metal. I finally get up, and let out a relieved sigh when I see that Darius is gone, and the cell has been washed out whilst I was asleep.

A few hours later, the men return to my cell, and beat me until I'm curled on the floor. This time, they avoid my face. They still shout out questions that I don't know the answers to. I'm grateful when they leave, hoping that President Snow will find something else to occupy his attention, and his guards. I feel weak, in both mind and body. I've certainly lost a lot of weight since I was plucked from the arena, and all that strength I had built up before the Games has disappeared.

The guards return the next day, but two of them wait outside the cell, whilst the other one comes in to drag me out. He leads me down the corridor by my arm, and I limp along beside him. I can't help but glance into each cell that we pass by. Johanna stares out at me, confused and with nothing to say. There are a few other people in the cells, who stare out through the bars but avoid looking me in the eyes. I was right about Annie; she's huddled in her cell, covered by only her bed sheet. For a brief moment, I wonder where her clothes are, and why the guards would possibly take them away, but a guard is pushing me forward.

He pushes me into the elevator. The light is intense, and I lift up an arm to shield my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain from the movement. None of the guards say anything during the elevator ride, or when they lead me along another corridor, which is a lot brighter than the dreary corridor for our cells. They stop halfway down, and the wall parts to reveal a room behind it. Like the doors in the hospital wing, silent and hidden. My eyes dart around me, trying to make sense of what is happening. I'm too afraid to ask the guards, feeling that one misspoken word might result in a blow to my body.

The room is almost like a hospital room, except in the centre is a long chair, with straps that are no doubt to keep me down. I doubt I would even be able to fight my way out of one arm strap at this point.

"Sit down," a guard barks. I hesitate, wondering what horrors await me in that chair. They've already beaten me, electrocuted me, drowned me, and made me watch them kill another man; what else could they possibly do? When I don't respond, a hand pushes me forward, and I stumble a couple of steps before regaining my balance. I approach the chair, inspecting every inch that I can see, wondering what it might do to me. Perhaps it's some kind of special torture chair, or maybe where I die. I've no choice but to sit in it and allow the guards to strap in my arms and legs, and secure a final strap across my chest. I tug at the straps, glancing back and forth, but I'm trapped.

The door opens again, and a man in a white coat steps into the room. "Ah, Mr Mellark. We've got some special treatment arranged for you today," he says brightly.

"W-what kind of treatment?" I ask, watching him suspiciously. He opens a drawer, pulls out a clean syringe. Opens a cupboard, pulls out a beaker of liquid. I can't see what the label says from where I am. The man has his back to me, so I can't see what he's doing, although I suspect he's filling the syringe with whatever he plans to inject me with.

"I'm Doctor Tylion," he turns to face me, syringe in hand and an odd smile on his lips. He blinks, noticing the guards. "You may leave now. He's not going anywhere." Without argument, the three guards leave me alone with the Doctor, and I'm not sure whether I feel more safe or not. "Now Peeta, you and I are going to be spending some time together. Although how much time depends on how well you take to our treatment." That smile again, and I definitely don't feel safe.

"What treatment?" I ask again, but he doesn't seem to hear me.

"Tell me, you love this Katniss Everdeen?" He quirks an eyebrow at me. I glare at him and don't answer. He watches me carefully for a moment, and then shrugs. "Okay, not feeling talkative, that's okay." He walks towards me, the syringe still in his hand. Is he going to kill me? A lethal injection? No, that doesn't make sense. He says we'll be spending time together, the Capitol don't want to kill me, they've been keeping me alive. "We're going to make you forget about those feelings." A laugh suddenly barks from my lips, and the Doctor looks surprised. "Well, what's so funny Peeta?" He asks me.

"Don't you know anything about love, Doctor? You can't just make someone forget about that feeling. I am in love with Katniss, I will always be in love with Katniss, and you cannot change that." The doctor regards me for a moment, and then he sticks the syringe in my arm, pressing down the plunger so that the liquid disappears into my veins.

All he does is smile at me and say, "we'll see." I frown at him and back down at my arm, and then the dizziness sets in. The doctor does something, and a screen pops up in front of me. Katniss face is suddenly in front of me, and it's so sudden that I find myself straining against the straps, trying to reach for her.

It goes on for hours, and I get more delirious as they pass by, trying to make sense of what the doctor is showing me. There's lots of Katniss, but not the Katniss I know. When the guards drag me back to my cell, I'm confused and drained. Johanna is stood at the front of her cell, staring at me through a black eye. The guards practically throw me into my cell, and I wince and grit my teeth against the pain that shoots through my ribs. I curl up on my bed and hold my head, trying to make sense of everything I had just seen.

"Peeta," Johanna calls quietly. I don't want to answer her, I don't know what I had just seen. I only know that it was frightening, confusing, and I never want to see it again. I move to the corner of the cell where I usually sit to talk to Johanna. "Where did they take you?" she whispers.

"I don't know... some kind of medical room. There was a chair, they strapped me down and injected me with something." She doesn't say anything, and I frown. "Johanna?"

"Peeta … what else did they do to you?" she whispers.

"They … showed me something. Katniss, but it wasn't really Katniss. What did they do to me?" I rub my forehead and frown at my hands. "Was that … tracker jacker venom?" I ask. I remember being poisoned by Tracker Jackers in my first Hunger Games, and the deliriousness and hallucinations it had brought on. This hadn't been as bad, but the feelings had been the same. Perhaps they had a controlled version of the venom.

"I think they're hijacking you, Peeta. I've heard about it but … wasn't sure …" I can imagine her shaking her head, not sure what to say. I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes.

"Hijacking me," I say it slowly, tasting the words in my mouth. I think of last year, sitting on the rooftop with Katniss and telling her I didn't want the Capitol to change me, that I wanted to be more than a piece in their Games. "They're going to make me hate her," I whisper.

"You have to remember the good memories, Peeta. Hold on to your real memories of Katniss," Johanna hisses urgently. I had told the Doctor he cannot change my feelings for Katniss, or make me not love her, but what if he can? What if he can twist that love, confuse me enough, and make me hate her? What if Snow is just making me a weapon against Katniss?

"Goodnight Johanna," I say flatly. She doesn't reply, and I curl up on my bed, trying to keep my weeping as quiet as possible.

The next day there is no torture. Instead, the guards escort me to a small room, where there are two strangers waiting for me. They look nervous, as if they would prefer to be anywhere else.

"These two are going to help you get ready, then we're going to update you on the Mockingjay's movements, and President Snow will meet you personally to tell you what he needs you to say on air," one of the guard informs me before they leave the room. _The Mockingjay. _So Katniss has become the face of the rebellion whilst I have been rotting away in prison. A small whisper nags at the back of my mind, taunting me, telling me she's probably forgotten about me.

"Are you … okay?" One of the strangers squeaks. I realise I was whispering to myself, and straight my shoulders, although the movement only causes pain and makes the two men jump.

"I guess you're going to make me look presentable." I wonder where Portia and my Prep team are, if they're being kept somewhere else, or if they are even alive.

I shower and dress in some clean clothes, having to sit still whilst the two men cover my face in make up, trying to hide the bruises that might be visible, put some colour into my face. After that, a guard tells me the basics. Katniss has claimed herself the Mockingjay, taping propos and broadcasting them for the Districts, people are dying for the cause, she's in District Thirteen.

"District Thirteen?" I ask incredulously. "I thought there was no District Thirteen?"

"Long story, you don't need to know it." The guards tells me curtly. And then President Snow is there.

"I need you to make her stop. Make her doubt the people she is working for, doubt the rebellion. I'm sure you have a speech in you somewhere."

"Well that might be difficult, since your guards have been beating a lot of stuff out of me," I snap.

"Yet, nothing useful to us." His mouth is a tight line, and his eyes remind me of a snake preparing to strike. "Perhaps I should request more torture on that girl we picked up with you. What was her name? Johanna?" I close my mouth. I want to ask him if he will protect Katniss if I do this, but know that I cannot push him too far. Not if I want to keep Johanna alive.

The music is starting, and Caeser Flickerman is talking to the audience, but it's not as enthusiastic as his segments for The Hunger Games. He introduces a special guest, and someone is pointing me to the stage. I walk on, trying to keep my back straight and walk without showing the pain screaming through my ribs and legs. Flickerman suppresses the surprise in his expression, but it shows in his eyes when he looks at me. We exchange a little, but it's not as charismatic as it had been before all of this. We used to make the audience laugh with our antics, but now he is starting to annoy me.

He asks me about Katniss, and if I'd like to say something.

_I need you, why aren't you here? Have you already moved on? Are you with Gale? Why have you abandoned me? _The questions race through my mind, but what comes from my mouth is entirely different.

"Don't be a fool, Katniss. Think for yourself. They've turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. If you've got any real influence, use it to put the brakes on this thing. Use it to stop the war before it's too late. Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with? Do you really know what's going on? And if you don't … find out." I know that there are very few people Katniss trusts, and I highly doubt she trusts the people who are using her as their puppet.

"That's a wrap!" Someone shouts, the screens go black. I guess we're finished.

Someone takes me by the arm, leads me off the stage and down the corridor. I wonder if they'll allow me to wash before I have to return to the cells. I look up, and Doctor Tylion is smiling at me. He gestures for me to walk over to him, and I do so slowly.

"Ah, Peeta! We'll get you showered, and then we'll continue with your treatment. President Snow has asked that we meet at least every other day for a session. Isn't that exciting?" He talks enthusiastically. No, it isn't exciting. It isn't exciting at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_I love how much faith you guys have in me and my writing ability, thank you! Hopefully I won't let you down. :) _

Chapter Two

"I don't know!" I scream at the Doctor, feeling more confused than ever. Every session, he tells me something, or makes me watch a tape of the arena, and then he stings me with his venom, and I can no longer remember if his statement is true or not. He makes me think of new events, remember new things, and he always asks me at the end which is correct. I begin by believing he is planting new memories in my mind, but at the end I think he may just be reminding me of what I already knew. He drags me into the room almost every day, sometimes leaving me a day to rest. The hours I spend in the chair are agonising, after each session the guards drop me in my cell. I pass the others, and the other prisoners always have a new pattern of bruises, but the guards no longer visit me. I'd prefer if they did.

"Tell me about Katniss," Johanna whispers whilst I'm laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling and panting. This is a routine we had started after the first few sessions with the Doctor; Johanna made me tell her my real memories of Katniss, so that I don't forget.

"I met her as a child. She was … she was wearing one braid instead of two," I frown, rubbing my forehead. "And bread … something about bread. Pigs? I … I don't know." Different memories are running through my mind. Katniss telling me she doesn't love me, that it was all pretend. Katniss pushing Mags into the fog during the Quarter Quell. Katniss singing, something to do with birds. Birds … stopping, falling silent. Katniss with her bow. Are those memories connected? I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them, rocking back and forth gently, shaking me head. No, that's not right. Which memories are the real ones?

"Peeta. You have to concentrate Peeta," Johanna urges me, but I continue shaking my head.

"I can't … I don't know. It hurts." I whimper.

"You have to tell me, Peeta." She sounds almost desperate now, but I don't understand why she's asking. My head hurts, the memories are getting more confused than ever. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, a Victor, a friend, once a fiancée, turned enemy. Enemy? Johanna is calling my name, but I don't answer her, I can't answer her. Enemy. The word bounces around my head, and I don't understand. Had she been an enemy? Had I not been defending her? Did I not love her?

"_I don't love you, Peeta. I never loved you. It was for the Games," Katniss sneers at me. _

Love, she doesn't love. She cannot love. The doctor had shown me a clip, they had created her in some kind of lab. She's not even technically human.

"Peeta, tell me about Katniss," Johanna practically shouts.

"She's a mutt, a stinking mutt! She tried to kill me!" I snap, shoving my head back so that it slams into the stone wall. "A Mutt created by the Capitol, to kill all of us." I notice a twitch in my hand, and ball it into a fist to make it stop. "It went wrong, she rebelled. Now she's created war, going to kill everyone," my voice is a murmur now, and Johanna doesn't speak again. I curl up on my bed and fall into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares that jolt me awake multiple times in the night.

The guards pull me roughly from my bed, startling me awake. I start shouting and struggling against their tight grips, "I don't want to go! No! I don't want to see the doctor!" One of them lands his fist into my stomach, causing me to double over, the air shooting out of me in a huff. There was a time when one punch wouldn't have affected me much.

"You're not going to see the Doctor, you're going to be on television," the guard tells me, dragging me from the cell. I don't reply to this, and start walking alongside them. At least it's not the medical room we're going to.

They drop me off in the same room as my last interview, but there are three new strangers. I wonder if the last two had requested to not take part. I had made them quite nervous. I shower and allow the Prep Team to do their work, all the while wondering if Portia is alive. I haven't seen her, and nobody has mentioned her at all. It's concerning, and I really hope she hasn't been killed.

The guards escort me to the stage, where the place is buzzing with people rushing around, shouting out things I don't understand. The two guards escorting me are talking between themselves, joking about something.

"Did you hear they're going to bomb District Thirteen tonight?" I tune in to their conversation.

"Quiet! The boy …"

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's been hijacked now, a total lost cause," the guard whispers. This annoys me for some reason. Hijacked, a lost cause, they think I'm in no position to help the people of District Thirteen. Or perhaps think I don't wish to, because that's where Katniss is hiding. The thought of Katniss causes a flux of emotions, makes my hands tremble. She will be dead by the morning, along with the hundreds of other people who have taken refuge. I frown down at my quivering hands.

Today's Interview is not with Caeser Flickerman, but I am escorted to President Snow's podium, where he is waiting for me. Someone makes me sit on the stool beside Snow, clipping a microphone on to my shirt. They turn on a projection of the map of Panem behind me, and they're telling me my lines, what I have to say. Then the cameras are on, my fake foot tapping against the stool, trying to focus on what is being said.

I have to repeat myself about the ceasefire, and read out the lines I've been given, about what damage the war has caused, using the map behind me. Katniss' face suddenly appears on the small television in front of me, standing in front of something that looks familiar. The whole room sets into panic, people shouting orders across the room, other people tapping at computers. I can only focus on the image in front of me. The crumbling building behind Katniss, there's a sign on the floor that I would know anywhere. _Mellark Bakery. _A lump forms in my throat. Why is the Bakery no longer there? Where's my father and mother? My brothers?

"Peeta, your lines," someone I don't know hisses at me. I try to carry on with what I had been saying, but my hands are trembling again. The screen keeps breaking off into small broadcasts that only last a few seconds, and then back to the President and I. The screen goes blank.

"Get control of that broadcast!" The President shouts, making the people around us move even faster.

The screen flickers back, and the set is still frantic, people shouting everywhere. President Snow jumps up, saying something about the rebels disrupting incriminating information. Then he's turning to me, because he knows I am no longer the person I once was. This makes me angry. He's asking if I have any parting thoughts. The guards, their warning of a bombing. If I say nothing, then hundreds of people will die. _"To murder innocent people? It costs you everything you are." _Hadn't I said that?

"Katniss … how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you … in Thirteen," I take a deep breath, my brain screaming at me. Tell them, don't tell them. Let her die, save her. "Dead by morning!" I shout into the camera.

"End it!" Snow shouts. I try to continue.

"Bombs! Tonight, you all have to get out! You need to-" Snow suddenly hits me in the face to shut me up, and I cry out in pain as I fall backwards. I know that the broadcast is dead now, I only have to hope that they listened. For a moment, I allow myself a small smile. Helping the people of District Thirteen, it feels a little like my old self.

"Where is Doctor Tylion?" President Snow is shouting at the guards behind him. "Take him now!" The guards pull me up from the ground, and I don't fight them. There is no use. We leave the panicked set behind us, and they take me to the Medical Room where Doctor Tylion is waiting.

"Well, Peeta. You've certainly upset the President. Lucky for you, he doesn't want you dead." The Doctor already has his syringe in hand.

"Is that really lucky?" I ask wearily, falling down into the chair. The straps go on, the venom goes in, and the torture begins. It seems to last twice as long as our usual sessions, and as they go on, I'm screaming less and less, giving in to the memories. They no longer seem fake, but a map of what my life has been like. The venom wears off, and the Doctor is smiling down at me.

"I think you're ready, Peeta." I frown.

"Ready? Ready for what?" My words are a little slurred and mumbled, as I am still waking from the haze that the venom leaves me in. The Doctor doesn't say anything else, only calls in the guards and have them escort me back to the cell. They mostly have to drag me because I keep stumbling over my own feet, suddenly exhausted and just wanting to lay down somewhere. Anywhere. The Doctor and I have never been in one another's company for so long, and it obviously has an effect.

The guards drop me in my cell, and I don't even bother moving to my bed, the floor seems comfortable enough.

"Peeta, hey Peeta!" Johanna is whispering for me, and I think I mumble something in reply before falling asleep.

When I wake up, everything is in chaos.

"Make sure all the cells are locked!"

"Get a guard on that elevator!"

"Send someone up!"

"Go, go, go!"

I rush to the door of my cell, glancing back and forth as the guards race through the corridor, this way and that. "Johanna," I hiss. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," she admits through the wall. "Someone said something over the radio, and then they all started running around and shouting at one another." My throat starts tickling and I have to cough hard, trying to get rid of the invasion. "Can you smell that?" Johanna asks through her own coughs. I realise that there is a strange smell in the air, but I'm too busy coughing and trying to keep my eyes open. Moments ago I had been wide awake, but now I feel so suddenly drowsy, my eyelids starting to droop.

"Peeta … what's going on? Are you ..." Johanna's voice drifts off, and I fall to my knees. In front of my cell, a guard falls down and his eyes close, but I do not know whether he is unconscious or dead. I have no time to worry over this matter, because unconsciousness has closed in on my mind.

When I wake I am in a bed, laying in a white room. I frown and blink against the brightness, for a moment fearing that Doctor Tylion will appear at any moment. Instead, a cheerful woman flashes a torch in my eyes, and asks me questions. I blink against the sudden light, but the woman tells me to follow it. A man comes in and take my wrist, pressing down to where my pulse should be. I do not fight him, as I have not fought off anyone for weeks now. It is no use, the guards are always stronger than me. But who are these people?

It doesn't look like the medical rooms in the Capitol, the wires are not trailing into the wall behind me, I can see the door on the other side of the room. Just as I'm about to turn away from the door and to one of the doctors, someone else walks in to the room. I stare in shock and disbelief, amazed and confused as to why they would allow her in here, near me. Seeing her in front of me sets a tremor in my hands and the rage pounds through my head.

I push the doctors away from me, and lunge forward to my feet, moving across the room towards her. The hate is raging inside me, wanting to take her out of this world, or just have her away from me. A mutt, a terrible mutt who betrayed me and everyone, who killed for the sake of killing. She shoots forward with arms open, and I tense my body for the attack she surely plans against me. My hands grasp around her throat, attempting to squeeze the life from her, my face contorted into hate. Nobody moves for a moment, and some part of me thinks it is because they want this too. To kill the Mockingjay.

A man's fist connects with my head, and a blanket of darkness falls over my mind.

I wake again in the same room, feeling dazed and still confused. I try to sit up, but my arms are strapped down to the bed, my legs won't move either. For a moment I am trapped, and I fight against the leather straps, shouting out that they must let me go, although I do not know why. I still do not know where I am. A memory comes to light, creeping to the front of my mind. Katniss' face, smiling at me and looking joyed, my fingers digging into her throat. I lie back and stare up at the plain ceiling, and tears are springing from my eyes, but I don't understand them. I don't understand anything.

Why would I cry for someone I want to kill?

Hours pass by, possibly days, which I spend falling in and out of consciousness, being checked over by Doctors and nurses, slowly fed food. Each time I wake up, my brain does feel somewhat clearer, but I am irritable and twitchy, and all of the memories are still there in my head. My hands seem to constantly fidget when I am awake, sometimes I don't notice, other times I cannot stop them.

The door to my room opens and I tense, alarmed and waiting . A young girl walks into the room, with a blond plait in her hair, and a tentative expression. My brows burrow a little, trying to place her. I recognise her to some degree, but cannot be certain where from. She looks at me and her expression breaks into a smile.

"Peeta? It's Delly. From home." She says.

"Delly?" I ask, trying to remember where I know that name from, sorting through the memories. Two children, always playing together. The boy was me, and the girl was a very cheery blonde girl. "Delly. It's you." I say.

"Yes!" She sounds relieved that I remember. "How do you feel?"

"Awful. Where are we? What's happened?" I ask her, because nobody else will give me any answers that make sense, they just creep around me.

"Well … we're in District Thirteen. We live here now," she tells me.

"That's what those people have been saying. But it makes no sense. Why aren't we home?" Delly chews on her lower lip, looking nervous.

"There was … an accident. I miss home badly, too. I was only just thinking about those chalk drawings we used to do on the paving stones. Yours were so wonderful. Remember when you made each one a different animal?" I do remember that.

"Yeah. Pigs and cats and things," but I want to know about the other things she had said. "You said … about an accident?" What could be so bad that we had to move to District Thirteen?

"It was bad. No one … could stay," she's hesitating, not wanting to tell me the full story. "But I know you're going to like it here, Peeta. The people have been really nice to us. There's always good and clean clothes, and school's much more interesting."

"Why hasn't my family come to see me?" I ask her, thinking of my father and brothers. Do they know I'm in the hospital? Are they okay?

"They can't," Delly says, and I think I see tears in her eyes. "A lot of people didn't get out of Twelve. So we'll need to make a new life here. I'm sure they could use a good baker. Do you remember when your father used to let us make dough girls and boys?" A good baker. My father is a good baker. Mellark Bakery. The thought of that brings up something else, a different memory. Something I had heard in passing.

"There was a fire," I say.

"Yes," I can barely hear Delly.

"Twelve burned down, didn't it? Because of her," the anger sets in again. The Mockingjay. Katniss. She set fire to district Twelve, just like the Capitol wanted her to do. That's what they created her for. "Because of Katniss!" I pull on the restraints, needing to get out again.

"Oh, no, Peeta. It wasn't her fault," Delly is trying to say to me.

"Did she tell you that?" I hiss. Delly, my childhood friend, who was always so kind. She would believe whatever she was told, of course she would.

"She didn't have to. I was -" Delly starts to say, but I have to make her understand.

"Because she's lying! She's a liar! You can't believe anything she says! She's some kind of mutt the Capitol created to use against the rest of us!" I shout at her.

"No, Peeta. She's not a-"

"Don't trust her, Delly," I say frantically, needing her to understand. I have to protect her. "I did, and she tried to kill me. She killed my friends. My family. Don't even go near her! She's a mutt!" Delly disappears and the door shuts behind her, but I don't stop. The thoughts of Katniss have left me with anger and hate that I've never felt before. "A mutt! She's a stinking mutt!" I continue screaming, thinking of my father, of my mother, of Garteh and Lukail, all burning in the bakery because of Katniss.

My screaming only stops when they come in and sedate me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

**If you are going to leave criticism/comments about how I have written something wrong; then please do so with an account I can reply to. **

**I can assure you that I have not written anything wrong, and I had the books open whilst writing out these fanfics. Thank you.**

_Sorry that this chapter was a tad late, but you might have to be patient with some parts._

Chapter Three

The doctors and nurses like to visit me. A lot. Always checking my pulse, or my blood pressure, asking questions, scribbling notes and flashing their light in my eyes. I try to be patient with them all, knowing that they only wish to help me. At the same time, I am still irritable and I cannot let go of the idea that they are protecting the mutt. The girl.

"It feels like there are two parts of me," I admit to one doctor, who scribbles quickly onto his paper. "There's this calm, kinder part of me … that I remember. Perhaps some kind of memory of another me, or someone I once knew. Now I'm irritated easily, I'm angry, there's so much confusion." I frown, wringing my hands, twisting the fingers around one another. My voice drops to a whisper, "sometimes, very rarely, it's like that kinder side of me is still here somewhere, begging to be let out." I wonder how I'm supposed to verbalise the emotions and thoughts in my head.

"Who are you angry at, Peeta?" the doctor asks. This would normally be a dangerous question, but my limbs and torso are all strapped to the hospital bed so there is no chance I could lash out at him should the wrong memories come to mind.

"President Snow," I answer instantly. "The Capitol. The men who changed me for their own purpose, made me ..." My frown deepens, trying to remember something. There's something there in my head, something someone had said, or perhaps something I had said. Something about Games. The Hunger Games?

"Made you what, Peeta?" the doctor has a gentle, soft voice and always talks to me somewhat slowly. I think it's some odd ploy to make me believe that I am safe now. That's also something they'd told me multiple times. You are safe, Peeta. Nobody will hurt you here, Peeta. Always the same thing, always so unbelievable that I'm tempted to laugh. Nowhere is safe, because the nightmares follow me wherever I go.

"A piece," I suddenly remember. "They made me a piece in their games." Another note on the paper.

"Is there anyone else you're mad at, Peeta?" I know what he's waiting for, what he expects me to say.

"_Her._" I say it with distaste, like something bad in my mouth.

"Katniss Everdeen," the doctor elaborates. I nod my head, glaring up at the ceiling above me. "Can you tell me why you hate her?"

"For the things she did, the people she killed or deceived." I try for the hundredth time to sort through my own memories, to remember all the things Katniss Everdeen did to make me hate her.

"Do you still think she is a muttation? Created by the Capitol?" He asks me, and I hesitate.

"They keep telling me was born and raised in the Seam." I say.

"That's correct." Is it?

"I have … some kind of memories, of District Twelve. A girl. I don't know. Maybe ..." I allow my voice to trail off, because I am no longer sure that Katniss is a mutt. "But if she isn't one … she could just be working for the Capitol." Scribble, scribble. My head starts to hurt, a small niggling that I know will turn into a throbbing pain. The doctor must notice me wincing in pain, because he sits back and lowers his pen.

"I think that will do for the day. We'll have your lunch brought in, and then I'm sure you'll want to rest." I nod and lie back against the pillows, allowing the doctor to leave. The door opens again a few minutes later, and the nurse walks in with her tray of food. It's the same nurse who feeds me every day, although she's someone from District Thirteen that I do not know. She seems kind, though, so I always make an effort to be nice. I find that the longer I spend in the hospital, the easier it is. A doctor told me it is because the tracker jacker venom is still leaving my system, as I had received such high dosages.

The nurse presses a button that lifts the top of my bed so that I'm sitting, which is even more uncomfortable with my limbs strapped to the metal frame. I adjust a little, but there isn't much room to move. The nurse seems to notice this. She feeds me as usual, and I swallow each forkful of the meal, not even asking what it is that they feed me. It's easier to be nice when I don't speak or think, don't allow the supposed venom to poison more of my thoughts. That's why I spend most of my time asleep. The nurse unties the strap that holds down my left arm, which snaps me out of my trance.

"What are you doing?" I ask her in a panic, suddenly wanting – no needing – the straps in place. They are the only thing keeping me from hurting anyone, from hurting innocent people.

"I have a sedative," she says, looking me straight in the eyes. They're an odd green. For some reason I was expecting them to be grey. I don't know why I'm disappointed when they are not. "I'm also very fast, so if you try anything, you will be straight under. Or, you can feed yourself some pudding." She says the last part brightly, holding out the small cup and spoon to me. Hesitantly, I take it in my free hand and watch closely whilst she unties the strap for my right arm.

She takes a step back, but makes a show of holding the sedative tightly in her hand. I spoon small servings of the chocolate mousse into my mouth, enjoying the movement in my arms. They feel somewhat stiff from being held down for so long. When I finish up the cup, I place it down on the tray and lay my arms next to me on the bed. She nods her head, seemingly satisfied and takes the tray away, leaving my arms free.

I stare at the door a moment, although it remains closed. For a while, I just close and open my hands and stretch out the tight muscles in them, enjoying the free movement. I still expect the doctors to come in and trap me once more, but my eyes begin to close and my mind clouds over, and my arms are still free. The nightmares are always there, waiting at the corner of my mind.

_Doctor Tylion with his syringe and twisted smile, forcing me down into the confused state of mind, the confused nightmares. Katniss' face in a wash of fire, her colourless eyes burning into my mind. What colour had her eyes been? For some reason, this piece of information seems important. Katniss chasing me with her bow, and a strange hungry look in her expression. But it is not her face, the facial structure is twisted and I don't recognise the person staring at me. I only know that she has a bow aimed at me, an arrow flying through the air for my heart. It has to be Katniss, because who else can it be?_

_The arrow flies true, but the blade doesn't touch my skin. Instead, it hits something under my shirt that I hadn't noticed before. Frowning, I pull out the locket, turning it over curiously in my hands. On one side there's a mockingjay engraved into the gold, and if I run my thumb just the right way, it flies open. I stare inside the locket, not sure what I am looking at, or what significance it has. A clean, white pearl glints in some light I don't see, and there is nothing else in the locket. A locket and a pearl, both important for reasons that I do not remember._

"We're going to try something new today!" The Doctor exclaims after walking into my room, and I regard him wearily. Someone drags a television into the room, getting a tape ready to play. I turn to look at the doctor, who has a syringe in his hand. I tense up and stare at him with a panicked expression.

"What's that?" I ball my hands up to stop the sudden tremor in them.

"Don't worry, Peeta. It's not like what they gave you in the Capitol," I want to believe him, but it's hard to trust anyone who waves a syringe at me. "This is morphling. It will have a calming effect on you, and hopefully stop any episode you might have." He explains to me. I'm still unsure, but after a moment I sigh and nod my head,, holding my arm out.

The syringe goes in and the plunger goes down, the morphling shooting through my veins. I notice the effect almost immediately. It's not so much calming as it is … emptying. The drug seems to wash away any emotions I might have had, and I relax back into the bed. I feel hollow, but I also feel improved upon the person I had been before this drug.

"Okay Peeta, I want you to watch this tape we have."

The screen flickers to life, and it is Katniss before me, in a cave. And there I am, laying at her side. Even this sight is not enough to stir any kind of emotion in me. On the screen, Katniss is telling me a story of how she retrieved a goat for her sister Prim. As the tape comes to an end, I find myself even more confused. Watching it in front of me, I am sure that I have heard this story before. Was it not a memory of my own? I had been laid there next to Katniss after all, so should I not remember her telling me this? I try to think of what I remember about being in a cave with Katniss, but my mind comes up with just a jumble of emotions and thoughts. It feels as if I am trying to take one path through my memories, but there's a heavy fog that takes me in all kinds of different directions.

Someone is calling my name, but it sounds like they are far away, in a tunnel perhaps. I blink, and see the doctor in front of me.

"What happened to the goat?" I ask him. The Doctor stares at me for a moment, surprise and confusion evident in his expression.

"The … the goat? You mean from the video?"

"Yes, the one you just showed me." I say, wondering why it's so hard for him to understand.

"Just – Peeta, you watched that tape six hours ago. You haven't said anything since then." He says slowly, and I don't understand what he means.

Six hours? I had only been thinking for a few seconds. How could that last six hours?

"I have a headache," I mumble, wanting him to leave me alone. I want everyone to leave me alone, to just wallow in my misery and confusion. I lay down on the bed and close my eyes, trying not to think of the realisation that I may be entirely broken.

I wake up the next day and the day goes on as normal. A nurse comes in with my breakfast, but allows me to feed myself. Apparently, this is a method of slowly breaking me back into a state of normality. I wonder what normal could be when one minute I am calm and feeding myself a bowl of mush, and the next I am screaming at the nurse because she is affiliated with Katniss. I accuse her of working with the Capitol, of trying to poison me. She flees the room with a terrified expression and sitting in the silence that follows, I feel an ebb of guilt.

I glare at the wall across from me, waiting for the rise and fall of my chest to slow down, for the anger to pass. I expect someone to come in to send me to sleep, but the door remains unmoved. It only makes me more suspicious.

"What are you waiting for?" I shout at the wall, and I'm certain that there's somebody watching me, or listening.

I don't expect the person who does come through the door a few moments later. The boy watches me just as I watch him, suspiciously. I don't think I've ever noticed before, but he really does look a lot like her. I expect it wasn't difficult to pass them off as cousins.

"Hello," I finally say.

"You know who I am?" he asks me curiously, and I nod in response.

"Gale Hawthorne, from the Seam. We had once been rivals for the affections of Katniss." I don't know why he would choose to come to me. To gloat, perhaps? To induce some kind of rage in me?

"Do you even remember those days?" He moves further into the room, sitting down in one of the chairs out of my reach.

"Not … not very well," I admit, hesitating. "It's almost as if it happened to someone else. Someone … better." A frown slowly makes its way onto Gale's face.

"You no longer think that you're good? Or kind?"

"I no longer think that I'm stable enough to be good. Or kind. I just screamed at a girl because of my own paranoia."

"I saw," he nods. My gaze flickers to the large mirror behind him. A window for whomever chooses to sit on the other side.

"I don't really get any visitors who aren't medical staff," I return my gaze to his. Grey eyes. They remind me of something from my dream last night, but the thought flitters away before I can grab hold of it.

"They don't want to upset you, or set you off." It's obvious that he's choosing his words carefully, being mindful of his tone and choice of subject. "Everybody wants you to get better, and be the old you."

"Do you?" I can't imagine so. With myself out of the way, he surely has a tight hold on Katniss' heart. I close my hand in a fist, cutting off the trembling in my nerves. I'm not sure if it's because of the thought of Katniss, or the thought of Gale with Katniss. Gale seems to notice, his eyes resting on my hand for a moment, and then my eyes.

"Yes," he finally says, which is surprising. "You're broken and hurting, that makes Katniss want to protect you," he's looking closely for my reaction.

"Protect me?" I sneer. "She's probably looking for another opportunity to kill me." Something changes in Gale's expression, and I think he actually looks sad for a moment.

"I never knew it until recently, but you have been protecting one another the entire time. You protecting her when you were children," he doesn't specify, but something pulls at my mind, begging to be remembered. Gale's voice distracts me. "You protecting her in the Games, teaming up with the Careers. I hadn't understood that at first, but of course it was to lead them from her. Katniss protecting you when you were hurt, healing you. The two of you protecting each other on your Victory Tour, and in the Quarter Quell. You even protected one another from your nightmares." I frown a little, wondering how he could possibly know of any nightmares. "You still get them? From the Games?" He asks.

"Sometimes … but mostly, they're confused. I don't understand a lot of them. I don't understand a lot of anything lately." Gale nods and rises to stand on his feet. He walks to the door but pauses, turning to look at me again.

"I do hope you get better, Peeta. Part of it is for selfish reasons, but I also know how good you are. This is something you never deserved." He leaves, and I'm left to wonder still at his reasons.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Again I am so, so sorry it took so long! Been completely distracted the past few days and then my Internet wouldn't let me post it up yesterday. But here we go!_

_Also if you have time - check out my new one shot Holding on to Catnip! It's Gale's Point of View, having to watch Katniss in the arena. I will probably be continuing it at some point and do Gale's POV for Catching Fire and Mockingjay! _

Chapter Four

The Doctor returns the next day with his syringe, although I find that I don't mind. I even almost welcome the hollow emptiness that the morphling brings. I feel like a toddler, unable to contain my own emotions. The morphling takes all of that away. The television flickers to life, and Katniss is on the screen again, surrounded by trees. I watch her with an indifference, and then she begins to sing.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

She has a very good singing voice, I observe. I also find myself looking for the birds that should be listening, but there are no birds down here in District Thirteen.

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

I start to hum along with Katniss' voice, the words already springing to my mind. I have heard this song before, but sung from a different mouth.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

On the screen, there is no other sound but Katniss and her song. I wonder if someone has edited out the sound of wildlife that should accompany the setting, but I know that it's because wherever Katniss had been singing, the birds had stopped to listen. A memory dregs itself up to the surface of my mind.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger it would be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

The memory becomes clearer along with the final verse of the song, and by the time Katniss has gone quiet, I remember why I know the song. The Doctor is watching me closely, probably noticed that I had known the tune of the song, but not wanting to push me.

"I know that song," I mumble, and the Doctor practically jumps on the words.

"Where from, Peeta?" His pen is already poised against the paper, ready to scribble down whatever I say.

"Mr Everdeen," I mumble, remembering the man who often came to trade with my father.

I had been young, so young that my father was only just letting me help him out in the bakery. The man had come down the street singing a song about a hanging tree, and it had mostly been words that made no sense to a boy of six. My father had told me about Mr Everdeen before, the man who could make the birds stop singing, just so that they could listen to him. When I heard him coming I had rushed to the door, peering out to listen for the birds, to see if it was really true.

I tell this to the doctor, leaving out that I had questioned my father after Mr Everdeen had left. I didn't understand why he would allow to man in the bakery when he had stolen the love of my father's life. Of course, he only smiled down at me and ruffled my hair.

"_Nobody will ever understand why people fall in love with the people they do, but it's not something we should blame them for. Besides Peeta, I have a wife and three strong, healthy sons; so life worked out the way is was supposed to, really."_

His words had stuck with me, even when I had been too young too understand their meaning. I was sure that I'd never meet a person as kind or loving as my own father, and decided at a young age he was who I wanted to be like.

"Can I have some time to myself?" I mumble to the Doctor, who nods and leaves me alone.

The morphling must have worn off, because there are tears in my eyes and an aching in my heart. My father is dead. He will never be kind or loving to anybody ever again. I'd never really had the time to process or acknowledge this before, but the information has finally sunk in. Gone, all of them gone. I no longer have any family left. I swipe at the tears running down my cheeks. I had always wanted to be as kind as my father, and now the Capitol have taken even that away from me.

I want to drag that kind Peeta up from wherever he is hiding and force him out to the world, but hours pass by and I am still the same.

Over the next few days, doctors are constantly in my room, trying out new things and always attempting to bring me back. I wonder why they bother. Why not just stick me in a cell somewhere and give me up to the nightmares? What use am I to them now? I watch all kinds of different tapes, and most of them leave me feeling confused. It's harder to tell which memories are the real ones; the ones I am shown in District Thirteen, or the ones I had before, supposedly implanted in the Capitol.

One night in my sleep, I dream of a young boy out in the rain with a sore cheek, clutching some burnt bread. He throws some to the squealing pigs by the door and glances through to the warmth, making sure the woman isn't watching. With the coast clear, he throws the remaining loaves farther past the pen, where it lands by a scrawny girl, her face awash with tears and rain. One last longing gaze, and the boy disappears into the building again.

When I wake, I know that this was a memory, not a dream. That the boy was me and the girl was Katniss. I also notice Haymitch sitting at the other side of the room, watching me carefully. How long has he been here whilst I was asleep?

"What are you doing here?" I snap.

"I came to see you," he tells me, and this makes me even more angry.

"Why? To keep more secrets from me?" An expression I don't understand falls across Haymitch's face.

"Is that why you're angry, Peeta?"

"Of course it's why I'm angry! You had this whole plan built out and didn't say anything. You just dropped us in there in the hopes we might do it right!" I pause for a moment. I had said 'us', rather than just me. Haymitch seems to notice it too, but he doesn't comment.

"You seem calmer than when you were first here," he says.

"I am, I think. Sometimes. A lot of the time I'm angry … different."

"Well, I came by to tell you that the doctors are going to start you on a new project. Finnick and Annie are getting married in a few days, and they want you to ice the cake for it. Think you can handle that?" I nod my head.

"Why did you tell me, and not one of the doctors?" Haymitch pauses for a long moment.

"I wanted to see you." He finally says, which I had not been expecting. I thought maybe it was part of my therapy. Slowly bring in the people I had known before my hijacking, and see my reaction.

"Haymitch," I say, just as he's turning to the door. He looks back at me. "I'd like to see Katniss. After the wedding." He regards me for a moment, and then leaves without saying anything.

It's inevitable that I'll have to see her at some point, and what better way than when I'm strapped to the bed with sedative at the ready? The only time I'd seen her had been a shock, and the surprise had triggered all of the anger that I had been infected with. Perhaps if I plan ahead and ready myself for seeing her, the results will be different. Not to mention the doctors keep telling me she isn't a mutt, and I'd like to judge for myself.

That afternoon I am unshackled from the bed, and allowed to walk hesitantly around the room in order to regain my balance and composure. I don't know how long I've been in District Thirteen now, but I've spent most of it strapped to the bed. They've allowed me out of it sometimes, to bathe and change the sheets. Guards are waiting for me outside the door, and they all carry menacing looking guns. I wonder what might happen if they had reason to shoot me; are they loaded with bullets or sedatives?

I'm led to another room down the hall, where they have set up a decorating table for me. The cake stands in the middle, looking plain and begging to be painted. It's covered in a thick icing that I can paint over, so I take up an icing pipe and fill it with a sea coloured icing. There are all kinds of colours waiting for me, and it looks like they've left the decoration plan completely up to me.

Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta; the handsome man and the mad girl from District Four. It makes sense that their cake would be themed on the sea and beach.

I spend the next few days building up the icing of their wedding cake, and I look forward to waking up each morning and being escorted to the decorating room. Working with the icing pipes reminds me of being back at the bakery with my father on a morning, working on the icing of the small cakes. Or creating my memories on canvas in the Victor Village. Working on the cake has a calming effect, and has me concentrating so hard that there's no room for any other thoughts.

I finish it the night before the wedding, and allow myself to feel proud of the work, but a little upset that I have nothing more to keep me focused and calm.

The next evening the doctors come by, with some extra equipment.

"Katniss has agreed to come and see you," the doctor tells me before moving closer. I'm not sure how to feel about this news, or even know what to expect. "So we think it would be best if we just prepare for what might happen." He begins strapping my arms back down, and adds two more straps. I'm not sure if this is necessary, because I've lost a lot of my muscles and strength after the Quarter Quell.

"You mean, in case I lose control," I say, and the doctor looks at me briefly. He doesn't answer, but sets up a sedative that can be injected with the press of a button.

"She won't be here until this evening after the wedding." The doctor leaves after checking everything is secure, and I am left to wait for Katniss to turn up.

She doesn't come for a long while, and I even fall asleep for a few hours. The clock at the other side of the room says midnight when the door opens tentatively, and Katniss walks in. I regard her wearily for a moment, perhaps expecting her to turn into some ravaging creature and tear me in half. She wanders further into the room, stopping a metre or so from my bed and folding her arms over her chest. I wonder if she's also expecting me to attack her. The rage inside me isn't as strong as it was before.

"Hey," she says, breaking the silence.

"Hey." I reply, my eyes roving over her quickly. She seems normal enough, but the Capitol have some very advanced minds and technology.

"Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me."

"Look at you, for starters," I admit. "You're not very big, are you?" People always seem to be raving about the Mockingjay, and have put so much substance in her that I was expecting her to be … taller perhaps. Instead she's a rather short, plain girl. "Or particularly pretty?"

"Well, you've looked better," she shoots back. I find myself laughing at this comment.

"And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I've been through."

"Yeah. We've all been through a lot. And you're the one who was known for being nice. Not me." This irks me, especially after my own thoughts of being kind like my father. "Look, I don't feel so well. Maybe I'll drop by tomorrow." She turns to the door, and I remember the dream that was a memory.

"Katniss. I remember about the bread."

"They showed you the tape of me talking about it," she says, and I frown.

"No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn't the Capitol use it against me?" They'd used just about everything else.

"I made it the day you were rescued," she explains. A pause, before she continues. "So what do you remember?" I think back to the dream, and my voice softens.

"You. In the rain. Digging in our rubbish bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead."

"That's it. That's what happened. The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn't know how." I remember this also, seeing her at school the day after.

"We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then … for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion." Katniss nods along with my retelling. I'd risked a beating from my mother to feed the scrawny girl in the rain. I'd apparently done a lot of things for this girl. "I must have loved you a lot."

"You did," she replies, her voice going weird and ending with a cough.

"And did you love me?" I ask. She doesn't look at me.

"Everyone says I did. Everyone says that's why Snow had you tortured. To break me." It's a good way of avoiding a direct answer.

"That's not an answer." I comment. "I don't know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers."

"I was trying to kill all of you. You had me treed," she defends herself.

"Later, there's a lot of kissing. Didn't seem very genuine on your part," this I had noticed whilst re-watching the tapes. Saw her kissing me, but looking as if her mind was elsewhere. I wonder if I'd noticed this at the time, or if I believed she just wished to kiss me. "Did you like kissing me?"

"Sometimes." She admits to me, then another small pause. "You know people are watching us now?" Obviously the conversation makes her uncomfortable, but I am indifferent to the eyes that I know are always watching me.

"I know. What about Gale?"

"He's not a bad kisser either," she sounds angry at the question. Quite a temper.

"And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?" I can't imagine I would have been fine with her kissing another guy.

"No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission." I laugh again.

"Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?" I say.

She turns and storms out of the room without giving me an answer. I sit back in the bed, thinking of the conversation and wondering why I had fallen in love with such a girl.

"_Nobody will ever understand why people fall in love with the people they do ..."_ My father's words come back to haunt me. Maybe one day I'll remember why.


	5. Chapter 5

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Hopefully from now, this will get somewhat easier to write, and the updates won't be so far apart! Thank you for sticking with me guys, hopefully the future chapters will make up for your wait. _

Chapter Five

Dinner with everyone else. The idea is making me panic a little, although only in my head. I've spent so long here in this hospital room with just the doctors and nurses, and occasional visitors. They want me to start eating with everybody else in District Thirteen, hundreds of eyes watching me, judging me. I'm sure they all know about me.

"Are you sure?" I ask the doctor. "I mean, I might suddenly go mad in the middle of the dining hall ..." I trail off, wondering at the possibility.

"You'll be handcuffed, and we'll be posting two guards to go with you." I stop arguing with the doctor and give in. They have no plans to keep me locked away forever, so I might as well weave my way back into society.

When I walk into the dining hall, I'm hoping that there's an empty table in the corner somewhere where I can just hide away. The tables are all mostly full, with a few spaces here and there. Someone hands me a large serving of beef stew and I'm moved forward with the guards close behind me. Everything is awkward with the handcuffs attached to my wrists, preventing me from too much movement. I manage to rest the tray on my fingertips. Across the room I see Johanna, and make my way through the net of tables towards her. When I'm closer, I see that she's sat with all the people I know. Including Katniss. My hands no longer tremble with rage when I see her, which is quite an improvement.

There's an empty seat beside Johanna, and I pause behind it. The Doctors told me that under no circumstances am I allowed to sit with anyone without their permission. I'm not sure if I'm hoping they'll say no, so that I'll have to go back into hiding. Finnick is telling some story that makes people laugh, but my eyes are on Katniss. Her face brightens when she laughs, and the sound is so gentle it's almost impossible to imagine her being a cold killer. Almost.

"Peeta!" Delly's voice cuts in through my thoughts, and I turn to glance at her. "It's so nice to see you out … and about." She looks pleased to see me, just as she always does. Even though the doctors normally bring her in to calm me after I have what they call an 'episode'.

"What's with the fancy bracelets?" Johanna asks me.

"I'm not trustworthy yet. I can't even sit here without your permission." I move my head back a little to indicate the guards behind me, who are ready to escort me away should anything go wrong.

"Sure he can sit here. We're old friends." Johanna says in her usual manner, patting the empty seat. Of course she would refer to cell buddies as old friends. I sit down beside Johanna and place the tray down on the table. "Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams." She explains for the others.

Annie has a negative effect to Johanna's words, covering her ears and seeming to ignore everything around her.

"What?" Johanna asks defensively. "My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy." Therapy. There's a fun hour every day. Picking apart my nightmares, my experiences...

I spoon mouthfuls of stew into my mouth, trying to ignore the dampened mood since my arrival. When Finnick has stopped murmuring to Annie, there's a lot of silence.

"Annie! Did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake? Back home, his family ran the bakery and he did all the icing." Delly says in the cheerful manner that she has. I don't think there are many times I have seen her without a smile.

Annie's face appears around Johanna, looking at me with caution. "Thank you, Peeta. It was beautiful." This pleases me. The word beautiful isn't something I hear often any more. Beautiful. My work.

"My pleasure, Annie." I tell her sincerely, being careful to make my voice gentle for her sake. She's quite a fragile being.

"If we're going to fit in that walk, we better go." Finnick picks up their trays and takes Annie's hand. "Good seeing you, Peeta." He adds to me with a nod.

"You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you." I joke. At least, I think it was meant to be a joke. I'm not sure if my voice portrays it correctly.

"Oh, Peeta." Finnick says. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." The two of them disappear.

"He did save your life, Peeta. More than once." Delly seems to be lecturing me.

"For her," I nod quickly towards Katniss. "For the rebellion. Not for me. I don't owe him anything."

"Maybe not." Katniss' voice comes from the other side of the table. "But Mags is dead and you're still here. That should count for something."

"Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don't seem to, Katniss. I've got some memories I can't make sense of, and I don't think the Capitol touched them. A lot of nights on the train, for instance." I say, looking at her with a blank expression. Laying in bed together, there's a lot of that. But I'm not sure why. Is that all that had happened? I use my spoon to gesture to Gale and Katniss. "So, are you two officially a couple now, or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?" I ask.

"Still dragging," Johanna adds in beside me. The thought of still being connected as a lover with Katniss causes the rage to tremble through the nerves of my hands.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself," Gale says in a purposefully calm voice. My gaze flickers to him quickly.

"What's that?"

"You." Is all he says, which isn't very telling.

"You'll have to be a little more specific. What about me?" My hands have stopped now, enough for me to have a mouthful of stew.

"That they've replaced you with the evil-mutt version of yourself," Johanna explains for him. I'm not sure what to say to this. I stay silent while Gale and Katniss leave together, frowning down at the stew on my plate. Is that what I am now? Some evil mutt? A shell of my former self? I realise that Delly is looking at me with fury in her expression, which is surprising enough that I stop eating to look up at her.

"That was not very nice, Peeta!" She squeaks. I want to tell her that trying to kill me wasn't very nice of Katniss, but I bite my tongue. "Katniss has done … she has done nothing wrong! There was absolutely no need to be so rude or mean!" I didn't know it was possible for someone's voice to squeak so much. She starts shouting at me some more, and all eyes are on our table, seeing what the commotion is, my hands are trembling again.

"Shouldn't have said anything, should have just eaten in silence," I mutter to myself, trying to stretch the muscles in my hand and make them stop their spasms. "Tried to kill me. A mutt. Maybe. Maybe not a mutt." I've drop the spoon back onto the plate, massaging my knuckles. "Friend and ally, she's a friend. Yet she can't be trusted." I rub my head to try and ease the sudden pounding. Thoughts and memories are getting jumbled again, mixing together, I can't remember what I'm supposed to believe.

Somebody grabs my arm, and I'm about to push that person away from me, until I look back to see the guard looking down at me.

"I think it's time to go now." I nod my head and stand up with the guard, keeping my gaze on the floor and paying no attention on the eyes that follow me out of the room. Each guard keeps a hand on each arm, which I think is most likely to reassure everyone else in the room. It also reassures me, knowing that I'm unable to hurt anyone around me with these armed guards here. The Doctor is waiting in my room with the sedative in his hand, and I don't fight him but welcome the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Over the next few days, the doctors resume their intense therapy. Lots of calming drugs and reassurances that I'm safe, and Katniss is not a mutt, and she won't hurt me, and on it goes. One day the doctor comes in, looking very concerned.

"Peeta … it has been decided that you are to start training." The doctor tells me. I don't understand him. Training for what? He seems the see the puzzlement in my expression. "They want to train you for combat, for the Capitol infiltration. It's mostly just for the um … to get some filming of you for the rebels."

"Combat training? Is that safe? Four days ago I had a meltdown in the dining hall, and now they want me to learn how to fight?" It seems absolutely ridiculous, and I wonder who made such a decision.

"Yes. It would seem so. You will still have the guards by your side the entire time, but no shackles."

"When do I start?" I don't want to start. It's completely insane and unsafe. Once again I find myself wondering why they don't just lock me up somewhere and forget about me.

"Today. Now. The guards are waiting outside to escort you." I consider faking an episode to get out of it, maybe cling to the bars of my bed to discourage them, but they'd most likely prise me away and out of the room. They'll make me do it at some point, so I might as well just give in and go ahead. It could be something to focus my brain.

It turns out to take up a lot of my concentration. They stick me with a beginner group, although the people with me seem more prepared than I. It's been a long time since I've taken part in any real exercise, so after just under two kilometres of an eight kilometre run, I am out of breath and wheezing. The others keep running. For some while, they don't allow me in the afternoon training, which is mostly all about weapons and shooting. I find it understandable so I don't question in, but spend the afternoons working out the tension in my muscles. The exercises and running are all build up to a lot of pain, but nobody seems unhappy with my progress.

It takes over a week, but eventually I manage to even complete the eight kilometres, and I feel much stronger, almost like my physique before the Quarter Quell. I wish there were bags of flour for me to practice with.

It's another few days before they let me start practising with weapons and take part in the Capitol practice drills. It's difficult work and when I first start my hands often tremble so that I can't assemble the pieces. Assembling guns helps with my concentration though, and the trembling even ceases entirely after some time. After another five days I can fully assemble a gun without any trouble. Another few days and I'm the fastest in the class. There's nobody I know in the classes. Katniss and Johanna stopped showing up at the morning exercises a week ago, not that I paid them much attention when I saw them.

Everything about my days becomes combat training, it's all I do and most of what I think about. It's either that, or I dwell on … well, on everything. All of the drills, workout and practices are enough to tire me out that I can sleep on a night without the nightmares, and I can even concentrate enough to listen to what is said during the lectures. The guards still follow me everywhere outside of the hospital, but if I'm not mistaken I'm sure that they even start to relax.

Another week passes by easily with daily training, almost peaceful sleep and only a few 'episodes' in the privacy of my hospital room. To everyone I don't know in District Thirteen, I most likely just seem like a cold and concentrated soldier in training.

One afternoon, the guards tell me that they're not taking me back to the hospital, but I'm needed in Command. I'm not entirely sure what this means, or what the Command room is. Coin is waiting in the room with my doctor and some other people I don't know. None of them look happy. I frown around at them, feeling cornered.

"Mr Mellark, please take a seat." Coin says, and I wonder if she's ever sounded gentle in her life. Hesitantly, I sit down in one of the empty chairs, not making eye contact with anyone in particular.

"Wh – what is this about?" I glance to the head of the table, where Coin is staring down at me.

"An important squad needs a replacement very soon, and we're going to send you." It takes a moment for the information to sink in. Me, a replacement? They're sending me out there? I clasp my hands together on the table in front of me, stopping them from their possible spasms. I turn to my doctor.

"Did you … approve this?" He knows I cannot do this, I'm not ready for this.

"No," he tells me firmly, then turning to Coin. "He is not ready for this. We don't know what might happen." I tune out for a while, because Coin and the doctor are arguing furiously whilst the rest of us stay quiet. It only lasts a few minutes.

"He is going." Coin tells everyone slowly and firmly, in a voice that ends all arguments. I know that there is no argument that would change her mind. I'm going into combat. Someone takes my hand, making me jump, and he freezes in his tracks.

"I was just going to stamp your hand, Peeta. We do it to every soldier." I nod my head quickly and extend my hand to the man.

"I would appreciate it if you warned me."

"Yes, okay. I'm sorry." He is even more hesitant to take my hand, and stamps it with the ink shaped in the numbers of 451. "That's your squad number, you'll be sent out in the morning."

And that is that.

Someone wakes me bright and early and I have to go through the motions of showering and dressing, being escorted to the transportation. They drop me in District Twelve.

I'd seen footage of it, but seeing the full destruction of my home almost makes me freeze in my tracks. Someone is nudging me forward, and I don't have time to drink in the rubble of the buildings. We make our way straight to the temporary transportation area, where there's a cargo train waiting for me. A few days of travel, with my thoughts entirely stuck on District Twelve. Or rather, what is no longer District Twelve. The nightmares return, and I spend most of my waking hours checking and cleaning my gun.

Inside a mountain tunnel I get off the train, and have to follow a glowing green line on the ground for six hours of walking. The rebel encampment is waiting on the other side, where my new team are waiting for me. I've already been debriefed on my team, the 'Star Squad'. Katniss will be there, and I'm not sure how I feel about this. Coin has managed to unravel all the progress I have made in the space of three days.

It's late when I arrive, and the rest of the team stare at me in silence. I guess they hadn't been informed of their new member. Boggs takes my gun from my shoulder immediately, tells us that he's going to make a call.

"It won't matter," I tell him. "The President assigned me herself. She decided to Propos needed some heating up." This had also been something that had been discussed around the table. What they're showing on the televisions isn't good enough, they need something new. So of course the obvious answer is to throw me in there, show me actively working with the rebels, stop the rumours that the Capitol has changed me. I'm not sure if the term hijacked has made its way out of Thirteen yet.

When Boggs returns, there's evident fury in his expression. He orders a watch on me, around the clock, with two men. I don't mind. He leads Katniss away by the arm, and I watch them talk closely. I'm not sure if I mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_A little more ahead this time! Hopefully this should make up for the rather rushed chapter five! _

Chapter Six

I pitch up my own tent a little way from everyone else, sensing the unease at my presence. I'm nearly finished when I hear Katniss' voice, talking to Jackson, who is in charge of my two man watch.

"I wouldn't be shooting Peeta. He's gone. Johanna's right. It'd just be like shooting another of the Capitol's mutts." Everyone in the squad hears it, although I'm not sure if it was for my ears also. Her words don't send a tremor of rage through my nerves, it makes me inexplicably sad. I don't understand why, but I want to crawl into my nearly pitched tent and hide away from everyone.

The squad are glancing at me from the corner of their eyes, hoping I won't notice. But I do. I always notice the quick, judging glances. They're waiting for me to start raving, to try and kill someone. I finish pitching my tent with stiff limbs.

There's a whistle, and one of the men informs me that the whistle signals it is time for dinner. They show me to the canteen, where I pick up food and sit in the circle that's made up of the rest of my squad. I eat in a tense silence, and nobody else speaks much either. It's all a little strained, and I can only presume that it is because of me.

After dinner I return to my tent, wanting to sleep, and just be away from the prying eyes. Boggs is standing by my tent, watching me approach.

"I want you to sleep outside, in full view of everyone." I want to argue. Why can't I just have some privacy? Time to myself? I nod my head in response and pull my sleeping bag out.

Finnick and someone else is on first watch. I lay down by the heater with the sleeping bag pulled up tight to my chest. The temperature has dropped and the wind is bitter, but the heater provides some heat and beats back some of the cold tendrils. After some time I find myself sitting up and staring at nothing, thinking of District Twelve. A fire had burnt down the town, had caused all of that destruction, taken away my family …

"Peeta," Finnick's soft voice pulls me from the dark thoughts.

"Finnick."

"Your hands are trembling." He nods towards them, and I realise that there are tremors running through them.

"Oh yes. They do that sometimes." I wring them together instead and notice something in Finnick's hands. It looks like a piece of rope, which he knots repeatedly with deft hands. I watch him for a few minutes in silence until he notices, his fingers pausing and his eyes flickering to me.

"Here," he holds it out to me. "My watch is over, and I think you need it more than I do." I'm unsure for a moment, but take the rope from Finnick's outstretched fingers and thank him quietly. He flashes me a smile that would dazzle most women in the Capitol, and gets up to disappear into his tent. With my sleeping bag pulled up to my chest and the heat licking at my exposed skin, I start tying the knots I remember from training.

Tying and untying. It takes up most of my concentration, and before I realise what is happening hours have passed by and Katniss is there. She hasn't spoken, perhaps doesn't want to. I remember her talking about shooting me earlier.

"These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth."

"I never wanted to kill you," she replies gently, which is surprising. "Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as … an ally."

"Ally." I repeat the word slowly, tasting it on my tongue. There are many associations with Katniss running through my head, from the memories that twist about in it. As part of my therapy, a doctor had asked me to list the words that I think of Katniss as, in an attempt to order them and put a label to her. "Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out." The rope twists about my fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real any more, and what's made up." Such twisted, confused memories.

"Then you should ask, Peeta." Finnick's voice from where he had disappeared to. "That's what Annie does." Just ask someone. But who? I have no friends in this new life of mine.

"Ask who? Who can I trust?" I ask.

"Well, us for starters. We're your squad." The woman, Jackson.

"You're my guards," I say flatly.

"That, too. But you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It's not the kind of thing we forget." Had I? It takes me a moment to remember what she means. But of course, it had been during my Interview with Snow. Shouting at the cameras, wanting to commit one act of kindness.

A lot of silence follows, and I fall back into my knot tying of the rope. It's somewhat comforting to know these people are willing to help me, to answer my questions. I spend a lot of time trying to root through my brain for some information, even just a small thing that I could confirm. Just as a start. I look up and across the heater, to where Katniss is sitting.

"Your favourite colour … it's green?" I ask.

"That's right," she nods. "And yours is orange." She adds, which I'm not to sure of.

"Orange?" I frown, not sure how true this information is.

"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset. At least, that's what you told me once."

"Oh." I close my eyes for a moment, filtering through the colours that I know and searching for the one she talks about. A soft orange of the sky, with the sun going down over the horizon. A painting comes to mind, a painting that is so familiar. Sitting above a bed, my bed from the Victor Village. Yes. I nod. I realise that I do find this orange preferable over all of the other colours. "Thank you," I say softly.

"You're a painter," Katniss blurts out. "You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." She gets up and darts to her tent, disappearing from my view before I can say anything.

I look down at the boots that are sitting by my side, with the shoelaces still in their double-knot.

At some point I fall asleep, with the rope twisted around my fingers.

The next morning, Jackson comes up with a useful game to help me. Real or not real. I tell them something that I think happened, and they tell me whether it is real or not.

"Most of the people from Twelve were killed in the fire."

"Real. Less than nine hundred of you made it to Thirteen alive." And my family were none of them.

"The fire was my fault." I almost hold my breath waiting for the answer to this question.

"Not real. President Snow destroyed Twelve the way he did Thirteen, to send a message to the rebels."

I take my time with every piece of information that I get, wanting to make sure it's stored, see if it links to any other memories that I have. I find that Gale is the best person to talk to when I have questions about District Twelve, and he even manages to be patient with me. Which is almost extraordinary considering a few of our last encounters. Finnick helps me most with questions I have about both of the Games I was sent in to. And then there's Katniss. Most of my memories and questions are twisted around her, and to reconstruct my memories of her takes a long time. The exchanges feel strained, but as if she's really trying.

We spend the day talking about small details, like her dress colours, why I made so many cheese buns for her, some of our teachers' names from school.

The next day we are suited up for a new propo. They're sending us out into a mostly emptied block that is of no importance to the war at all. There are some active pods, which we are informed of in great detail. There's also going to be smoke bombs, just to add to the sense of the propo. Make it look like we're actually doing something.

Boggs presses my gun into my hands, but tells me loudly and firmly, "it's only filled with blanks. Not real bullets." I feel that this was not meant so much for my benefit.

"I'm not much of a shot anyway," I shrug.

I notice the crew man Pollux, and can't help but stare at him like I have been most of the morning. There's something about the way he moves that seems so familiar. It dawns on me after a while.

"You're an Avox, aren't you?" I ask, thinking of the two Avoxes that I once knew. "I can tell by the way you swallow. There were two Avoxes with me in prison. Darius and Lavinia, but the guards mostly called them the redheads." _Get the redheads. _"They were our servants in the Training Centre, so they arrested them, too. I watched them being tortured to death. She was lucky. They used too much voltage and her heart stopped right off." I remember her lifeless eyes, staring. The way she had defied the guards in her last moment. "It took days to finish him off. Beating, cutting off parts. They kept asking him questions, but he couldn't speak, he just made these horrible animal sounds. They didn't want information, you know? They wanted me to see it."

Nobody is speaking, they're all looking at me with shock in their expressions. Isn't this part of the game? I tell them, and they confirm or deny it. "Real or not real?" I ask. None of them answer. Why aren't they answering? I thought this was the point of this whole game? To trust them enough to help me sort through the memories. My fingers begin to twitch. "Real or not real?" I ask more loudly.

"Real," Boggs finally says. "At least, to the best of my knowledge … real." My fingers relax again, the point of the game is restored.

"I thought so. There was nothing … shiny about it." That's the most distinctive feature I can distinguish about some of my memories. When playing them through my head, I noticed that some of them looked like they were shimmering, perhaps covered in glitter. It's easier to tell on some memories over others. I turn and wander away from the others, doing a quick check over of my gun. "Took off his fingers one by one, but his toes they just chopped right off. Ended up with two left over." I mutter to myself, remember the sickening sound of blade cutting through flesh.

"Move out, squad!"

Everyone gathers around Boggs and his holo, talking about the pods and activating them. One of them needs a volunteer to set off the body sensor, to which everyone else puts their hand up. I don't. I'm not sure what is happening, and I doubt they'd pick me anyway.

It doesn't feel like we're fighting a war at all. Before we can move on there's dabs of make up, and then we have to wait for the cameras to be in position, smoke bombs are thrown up ahead, and then someone is calling "Action!".

We move forward, firing at the windows that we've been assigned. Gale has the real target, and once the pod is hit the rest of us have to dive into cover. Bullets rain over the street above our heads and I stay completely still, silently reminding myself that this isn't real. It's a simulation, just for the cameras. The bullets are real, but the danger isn't. It stops after some time and Boggs wants us to move forward, but Cressida wants us to redo some of our reactions for close ups.

After some tries, the mood is much lighter, and I feel a lot calmer. People are even laughing, and I think I manage some kind of half smile.

"Pull it together, Four-Five-One." Boggs tells us, with the hint of a smile in his expression. He's examining his Holo in the smoke, stepping back … and exploding.

Nobody is laughing any more, somebody is screaming and blood is splattering the orange paving stone where Boggs' legs used to be. From somewhere, there's a second explosion and the person hasn't stopped screaming. I look around the squad, trying to figure out who it is, but I realise that the sound is coming from my own lips. My hands are trembling, tightening around the handle of my gun. I close my mouth.

The others are falling in a protective circle around Boggs and those trying to stem the pooling blood. Finnick is reviving the male Mesalla, who must have been thrown aside during the impact. I stare around me uncomprehendingly, unsure what just happened, and what is happening now.

"Prepare to retreat!" I'm sure that that is Jackson, and Finnick replies in shouts, pointing to the end of the street.

There's a large wall of black heading in our direction, spilling out through the streets from where we had come from. It doesn't look like we're going that way again. Some more loud gunfire, startling me, and the trembling seems to travel up my arms. Why am I here? I turn and see Katniss, and suddenly I'm charging towards her. She's moving away, but I manage to grab her and yank her away so that she falls to the floor. Gun is full of blanks. It will hurt, but it won't kill. I lift it above my head and prepare to slam it down upon her skull, but she rolls away and the butt of the gun hits the stones of the ground.

Someone tackles me, trying to pin me to the ground. My feet sit on his stomach and I push him away from me, so that he launches away down the block.

Something snaps. Cables attached to buildings break up through the stones and snatch Mitchell up in a net. There's blood, a lot of it. I don't understand it at first, but see that the wires encasing him are covered in barbed wire. Someone else holds me tight and others grab my arms, but I don't struggle with them, I'm too busy staring up at the bloodied Mitchell.

They're pulling me back and through a door, and I start struggling against them, trying to get away. Someone cuffs my wrists, and I bellow in rage, pulling at the manacles. They can't do this, I need to get out. I need to kill the mutt. They stuff me into a closet and close the door, so that I'm enclosed in darkness. I kick out at the door, yelling at them to let me out. The door doesn't budge, but after some time my energy drains and my trembling calms.


	7. Chapter 7

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Seven

I open my eyes and glance around, blinking away the fogginess of my thoughts. I'm laying on a sofa with my wrists cuffed, and we're in an apartment similar to the last one. But there's no Boggs on the kitchen table, and we're in some kind of living room. Boggs … being blown up. All the confusion, the madness. Katniss, I had attacked Katniss. She wasn't hurt but … Mitchell. My head begins to hurt, remembering the man being snatched up by the net with barbed wires. I had kicked him away from me. I had killed him.

The television is playing, with footage of us in the building, and the reporters are saying that we're officially dead.

"So, now that we're dead, what's our next move?" Gale asks the rest of the squad.

"Isn't it obvious?" I speak up. I had killed an innocent man, because he had tried to restrain me. Attacking people. It's a good thing Boggs thought to fill my gun with blanks, otherwise it might not just be Mitchell dead. My eyes seek out Gale. "Our next move … is to kill me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jackson says.

"I just murdered a member of our squad!" I yell at her.

"You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot." Finnick says, and his voice is purposefully calm.

"Who cares?" Tears begin to form. "He's dead, isn't he? I didn't know," I sob. "I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!"

"It's not your fault, Peeta," Finnick tries to reassure me.

"You can't take me with you." I shake my head furiously. "It's only a matter of time before I kill someone else." Surely they have to see it. Maybe they're just too kind to do it, don't want to participate in such an act. "Maybe you think it's kinder to just dump me somewhere. Let me take my chances. But that's the same thing as handing me over to the Capitol. Do you think you'd be doing me a favour by sending me back to Snow?" I'd rather die.

"I'll kill you before that happens. I promise." Gale tells me, and I hesitate. Would he be able to go through with such an act? I shake my head.

"It's no good. What if you're not there to do it? I want one of those poison pills like the rest of you have." I'd been told of them back in Thirteen, but it was decided that I wasn't going to be issued one. That had been Coin's decision.

"It's not about you," Katniss finally speaks up. "We're on a mission. And you're necessary to it." She turns to the others. "Think we might find some food here?"

Half of them stay to guard me, whilst the other half go in search of something to eat. Maybe I can convince them to give me some nightlock, although it might take some patience on my part. Something I'm no longer known for. The others return with plenty of cans and some boxes of cookies. Although the District Thirteen soldiers aren't all that impressed.

"Isn't this illegal?" One of them asks. I think the others call her Leeg 1. Or is she 2? Of course they wouldn't understand the need to hoarde food. They accepted everything that was given to them, and never took any more.

"On the contrary, in the Capitol you'd be considered stupid not to do it." Mesalla says. "Even before the Quarter Quell, people were starting to stock up on scarce supplies."

"While others went without."

"Right. That's how it works here." Mesalla explains. I don't see anything overly wrong with this way of thinking. Even in the bakery we didn't have a lot of food, and if there had been a way of storing them, I'm sure we would have done so. There was never any extra food, though. Not in District Twelve.

"Fortunately," Gale says. "Or we wouldn't have dinner. Everybody grab a can." They even let me up to pick my own can, and I find one with the label lamb stew. That had been her favourite to eat in the Capitol.

"Here," I hold it out to Katniss. She glances at it and thanks me, making a spoon out of the lid and scooping it out. I find another can for myself, and scoop out the slop inside.

When the cookies are handed around, the television starts beeping, and the seal of Panem comes up on the screen. It's our faces on the screens, announced dead, just like they would have done were we in the Hunger Games. Snow is there on the screen, congratulating the Peacekeepers for supposedly taking us out. He's talking about our Mockingjay, how she doesn't mean anything, that there's no real leader of the rebellion. The screen flickers and it's Coin looking out at us, introducing herself as the rebellion leader. She praises Katniss, who makes a comment that makes only Gale laugh. Snow is back.

"Tomorrow morning, when we pull Katniss Everdeen's body from the ashes, we will see exactly who the Mockingjay is. A dead girl who could save no one, not even herself." The broadcast ends.

"Except that you won't find her," Finnick says. So we have until morning until they find out that we aren't really dead.

"We can get a head start on them at least," Katniss says wearily. She pulls out the Holo, and calls Jackson to talk it over with her and explain all of its functions. After some time her eyes fall to the rest of us. "Any ideas?"

"Why don't we start by ruling out possibilities. The street is not a possibility." Finnick points out.

"The rooftops are just as bad as the street," one of the Leeg twins says. The first one again?

"We still might have a chance to withdraw, go back the way we came. But that would mean a failed mission." Someone says. Was his name Homes? And what mission is he talking about?

"It was never intended for all of us to go forward. You just had the misfortune to be with me." Katniss tells us.

"Well, that's a moot point. We're with you now. So we can't stay put. We can't move up. We can't move laterally. I think that just leaves one option."

"Underground," Gale offers.

Plans are made, and Katniss finds an entry on her holo. Then we have to clean the place up, erase any evidence of us ever being in the apartment. They're all getting ready to set out, but I sit down on the sofa firmly. I won't go with them. I don't want put them in any more danger.

"I'm not going. I'll either disclose your position or hurt someone else."

"Snow's people will find you," Finnick points out.

"Then leave me a pill. I'll only take it if I have to."

"That's not an option. Come along," Jackson gestures with her hand for me to stand.

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?" I raise an eyebrow in question.

"We'll knock you out and drag you with us," the one I'm sure is called Homes says. "Which will both slow us down and endanger us."

"Stop being noble!" I burst. It's like back in District Thirteen. Why won't they just leave me somewhere, to forget about me? "I don't care if I die!" My gaze moves to Katniss instead, voice becoming a plead. "Katniss, please. Don't you see, I want to be out of this?"

"We're wasting time. Are you coming voluntarily or do we knock you out?" She asks me. I cover my face in my hands, wanting to scream and rage. But I don't. They won't leave me here, that's evident. I lower my hands and stand up from the sofa.

"Should we free his hands?"

"No!" I snap, pulling my hands into my body.

"No," Katniss repeats in a calmer voice. "But I want the key." Jackson doesn't even argue, but gives it over to Katniss, who slips it into her pocket.

We head to the mechanical shaft that leads underground, but Castor and Pollux have to get rid of their shells and most of the cameras in order to fit through it. The shells are stuffed into a closet and we go single file to the second apartment. Mesalla is complaining about the apartment, something about workmen and baths.

We descend a wide ladder into the underground shafts, which is awkward and difficult with the cuffs around my wrists. It smells like a mixture of sewage and chemicals, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Pollux is gripping Castor's wrist, looking pale and unsteady.

"My brother worked down here after he became an Avox," Castor explains. "Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn't see the sun once." Stuck down here for five years, with no sight of the world above. It sounds a terrible fate, but it also means that Pollux is likely to know these shafts better than that Holo on Katniss' wrist. Nobody else says anything.

"Well, then you just became our most valuable asset." I say, which makes Castor laugh, and Pollux manages a weak smile.

Gale and Jackson become my guards down in the net of tunnels, walking closely beside me as we trudge on. It feels like we get far after the six hours of Pollux guiding us, but by that time it's obvious we are all tired and in need of some rest. It's a relief when Katniss suggest that we stop, although I'm certain that sleep won't come easily. I lay down wherever there's space, and spend hours staring up at the ceiling above me.

In my head, I see Mitchell's final moment on replay in my head. It's as if it is in slow motion, watching him being snatched up over and over again. All because I couldn't control myself. After what seems like no time at all, Katniss' voice pulls me up from the thought.

"Have you eaten?" I shake my head in response, so she holds out an open can for me. I take it cautiously, but sit up and tilt the contents into my mouth. If she had wanted to kill me, it's likely that she would have done so already. Instead, she's refusing to leave me behind, and making sure I eat.

"Peeta, when you asked about what happened to Darius and Lavinia, and Boggs told you it was real, you said you thought so. Because there was nothing shiny about it. What did you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly how to explain it," the change in my supposed memories is not a large one, but at least it's development. But how am I supposed to explain the things I see in my own head, when I barely understand them myself? "In the beginning, everything was just complete confusion. Now I can sort certain things out. I think there's a pattern emerging. The memories they altered with the tracker jacker venom have this strange quality about them. Like they're too intense or the images aren't stable." Katniss was in the first arena and got stung by them, maybe she's the person who could understand it best. "You remember what it was like when we were stung?"

"Trees shattered. There were giant coloured butterflies. I fell in a pit of orange bubbles." She pauses a brief moment. "Shiny orange bubbles."

"Right. But nothing about Darius or Lavinia was like that. I don't think they'd given me any venom yet."

"Well that's good, isn't it?" she asks, in a perhaps hopeful voice. "If you can separate the two, then you can figure out what's true." If only it were quite that easy. Especially when I'm prone to falling into violent episodes that jumble up the thoughts even more.

"Yes. And if I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings. Real or not real?"

"Real," she replies. "But people don't need wings to survive."

"Mockingjays do." I finish off the can and turn to hand it back to her.

"There's still time. You should sleep." She tells me. I don't reply or argue, just lie back and stare at a needle on some dial that swings side to side.

Slowly, her hand brushes some hair from my forehead. My body stiffens, but there are no violent tremors in my nerves at the touch of her skin on mine. When I don't push her away or react, she continues to stroke my hair back. This is the first time she's touched me since my rescue, since we were in the arena. There's a definite change in her the past day or two, she's no longer so hostile towards me.

"You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real?" It comes out as a whisper, not wanting to startle her away. The simple action actually feels … nice.

"Real," she answers. "Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other." She says quietly, and neither of us say anything more.

The motion of her hand is gentle enough to soothe me into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_I will be doing some kind of epilogue in Peeta's Point of View! I don't know if I will just make it an extension of this story, or create a new one for it, but I shall let you know._

Chapter Eight

"_Katniss." There's something slinking in the dark, closing in on us. "Katniss." The voice is a low hiss, made to echo around … wherever we are. It's dark, everything is unusually dark. There's no hint of light anywhere, which makes me uneasy. There should be some light, it hadn't been so dark before. Where had I been before? Underground, with the others … with Katniss. Katniss. The name is echoing in the room, in my head. There's something in the darkness, hissing her name, waiting to hurt her. Hunting her. I realise after a moment that that something is me. But I'm not alone. There are others coming, I can feel them in my head. We're a collective, hunting our prey. "Katniss." Kill. Must kill. _

I startle awake, eyes wide in terror, trying to catch my breath.

"Katniss!" I turn my head to look for her, eyes seeking out her face. She's looking at me with a hard expression. "Katniss! Get out of here!"

She seems to hesitate. "Why? What's making that sound?" The hissing. So it's not just in my head.

"I don't know. Only that it has to kill you. Run! Get out! Go!" She can't stay here, where they're likely to find her. I realise that she has her bow in her hands aimed at me, but after a moment she relaxes and lowers the weapon, looks around at everyone else.

"Whatever it is, it's after me. It might be a good time to split up."

"But we're your guard," Jackson objects.

"And your crew," Cressida adds in.

"I'm not leaving you," Gale insists, which is the least surprising.

They take my gun and load it with bullets, handing it over to one of the others. I don't get a weapon, but at this point in time I don't want one.

We don't stick around for long, but move quickly, deeper into the net of tunnels with the aid of Pollux. I wonder how we would have done this without him here to help.

After some time, the screaming starts. Screams that are animalistic, guttural, and so familiar.

"Avoxes," I tell the others. "That's what Darius sounded like when they tortured him."

"The mutts must have found them."

"So they're not just after Katniss," Leeg 1 says.

"They'll probably kill anyone. It's just that they won't stop until they get to her." We should probably get out of the tunnels quickly, and hope they don't follow us out into the streets.

"Let me go on alone. Lead them off. I'll transfer the Holo to Jackson. The rest of you cam finish the mission." Katniss says. She plans to die so the rest of us can have a better chance of getting out.

"No one's going to agree to that!" Jackson sighs.

"We're wasting time!" Everyone's too busy arguing with one another, they haven't noticed the sudden silence, that's quickly followed by the hissing of mutts.

"Listen," I whisper, making the others fall silent. The hissing is louder now, and it sounds like the mutts have spread out. Katniss and Pollux start running, and the rest of us follow close behind. There's a sickly sweet smell in the air, and someone shouts for masks. I pull mine clumsily over my face, and keep on running behind the body in front of me. I think it's Jackson, but I'm concentrating too hard on my feet. Pounding one after the other on the ground, my heart hammering against my chest. Something blows up in front of me, but we keep moving.

We all come to a halt, and I'm confused until I peek around those in front of me and pull the mask up over my head. Mesalla is poised in some golden light, mouth outstretched in what could be a scream that we don't hear. The skin is melting away from his bones, but I can hear the hissing in my head. Drawing closer, skulking in the shadows …

"Can't help him!" I push forward whoever is standing in front of me. "Can't!" I repeat. Thankfully everyone starts moving again, and we're running to the next intersection. They're waiting for us there with a hail of bullets, but I've nothing to fight back with. I can only stay behind the rest of my squad whilst they fight back. At first look, it seems as if the second wave are more Peacekeepers, but they have the tails of reptiles, backs that arch and heads that seem to jut at an awkward angle. The hissing has grown to something akin to a shout in my head, Katniss' name over and over. The order to take her out, the urge to do as I'm told …

"This way!" Katniss' voice pulls me from my own mind, and I turn to follow behind her. I think Pollux takes the lead, and I just want to get out of this hell hole. It feels as if my brain might explode, or the hissing could make my ears bleed. We're no longer running on tiles, but concrete. The space tightens into a pipe with a small ledge for us to move along. A sewer, from the smell and the look of the waste below our feet. It isn't normal human waste, but there's a mix of chemicals that causes small fires on the surface.

We try to move quickly, but the ledge is slippery and we certainly don't want to fall down into what awaits below. I move in slow, careful movements. Especially when stepping with my fake leg. One miscalculation and I would be gone. We finally come to a ladder, but Katniss is talking about Jackson and Leeg 1, who I hadn't even noticed were missing. An explosion that takes away the far side of the bridge, more gunfire that takes down some of the mutts. I try to cover my ears, which is difficult with the cuffs around my wrists.I dig the skin of my wrists into the metal cuffs, where the skin is already scratched and bloody. The pain reminds me what is real, and where we are.

Get out. We have to get out and away. I make myself lower my hands, and look up. There's a ladder at my side, and Pollux is scrabbling up the rungs.

"Katniss!" I yell, but she's rooted to the spot, killing off the mutts one by one. I grab her arm and pull her back, shoving her to the ladder, perhaps a little too hard. There's no time to be gentle. Thankfully, her limbs move again and she disappears up so that I can follow behind. My fake leg gets caught in one of the rungs, so I slow down a little to pull it out and being careful to not get it caught again. Katniss seems to be back in her senses, because she reaches down and pulls me up to the platform.

Gale's head appears and he climbs up onto the platform, with what looks like a wound on his neck. There are some people missing. Just as I'm thinking it, there's a cry from below, and some of the hissing in my head even quietens.

"Someone's still alive!" Katniss says desperately. Gale's shaking his head, says something I don't catch. It looks as if Katniss is about to climb down anyway, but she shines the light of Cressida's gun down the ladder.

"Nightlock, nightlock, nightlock," Katniss says to the Holo with a catch in her voice. She drops it down to where the mutts tear apart one of the unfortunate missing members. We all fall back against the wall, the explosion rocking out to splatter us with the flesh of mutts and human.

Flesh, I'm covered in flesh. All of the hissing in my head has ceased, leaving only my twisted thoughts. I can almost feel myself falling apart, the trembling is starting to take over my nerves. I tighten my hands into fists, crouching in on myself. I pull on the cuffs, making the metal cut away at the skin even more, needing the pain to hold myself together. I try to block it out, fight it away. The darkness is clouding my mind.

_Katniss. Kill. Kill. No. _

I tense my muscles, trying to stop the trembling but it's a losing battle. I hear her voice, calling my name gently. Her hands on my wrists, pulling them away from my face. But I can hardly see her. I can only see Katniss disturbing the Tracker Jackers. Katniss pushing Mags into poisonous fog. Was that memory shimmering like the fake ones?

"Leave me," I manage to whisper, the words almost getting lost in my throat. "I can't hang on." Every second is pulling me further into the darkness, into that Peeta who pushes people into traps.

"Yes. You can!" She urges me. I shake my head. She's wrong. I can't.

"I'm losing it. I'll go mad. Like them." Those mutt … things. Is that what I am now? Some kind of beast intent on killing Katniss, all because of an order in my head.

Her lips are suddenly pressed against mine. She's kissing me hard, and knowing that causes a violent shudder through my body. She tried to kill me. She's the reason for most of the bad things in my life … she's … she's kissing me. The feeling is intrusive and familiar. It awakens the memories of old kisses. She pulls away, and the loss of her lips on mine leaves an empty feeling that I can't explain. Her hands slide up my wrists gently, her fingers entwining with mine.

"Don't let him take you from me," she whispers, and her voice is pulling me up, out of the dark. The nightmares are still there, teasing me, reminding me. Are they shimmering?

"No." _I don't want to go. _"I don't want to..." _kill you. _More trembling in my hands, but she grips them tight.

"Stay with me." I'm no longer underground in the Capitol, but in a bedroom. I'm beside Katniss, pushing the hair away from her face, kissing her forehead gently. I know that this memory is a real one, and it's enough to pull me fully back to the now.

"Always," I say out loud, blinking and seeing Katniss crouching in front of me. She looks relieved I think, and helps me to my feet.

There's just one more ladder and we're in a Capitol apartment, where Katniss has to shoot some woman down. I look away, ignore the twitch in my fingers. I can't let him take me away. I sit down on a sofa, find myself rocking back and forth. It's difficult pulling in all of those feelings, the need to explode and start fighting all those around me. There's a red cushion at my side and I pick it up, pull it into a tight hug, but it's not enough. I can feel a scream building up in my throat, see District Twelve burning down in my mind. I clamp my teeth on the cushion to cut off the scream, squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember that Katniss isn't an evil mutt.

She's just a girl, a girl with soft, warm lips … the memory of that simple kiss seems to help, and the feeling of the cuffs chafing against the broken skin of my wrists. Slowly, my breathing evens out, and my body becomes my own again.

Katniss appears in front of me, with the key to my handcuffs clasped in her hand. She must see the blood. I pull my hands quickly away from her.

"No. Don't. They help hold me together."

"You might need your hands," Gale points out, who is standing behind Katniss. I wonder if he's staying close just in case I go mad again.

"When I feel myself slipping, I dig my wrists into them, and the pain helps me focus." I explain to them, hoping they'll understand. Thankfully, Katniss puts the key back in her pocket and turns away.

Someone starts pulling clothes out of a closet, made up of mostly thick, winter coats. It's lucky that the weather is cold out, and being so covered won't be unusual. Cressida wraps two scarves around my mouth and nose, so that I can only just see. A large coat goes over my shoulders, and we're out on the streets, in the large crowd. Snow has begun to fall, although I'm well hidden from the flakes.

Seeing the snow fall takes me back to some other memory, of standing in the snow and seeing Katniss coming towards me. She attacks me, pushing me to the ground and … no, that's not right. I frown at the snowflakes swirling through the air, moving aside with the crowd for some Peacekeepers. She hadn't attacked me … it had been a hug. I had slipped in the snow and we were on the ground in an embrace, and there was a kiss. Yes, that's right. It had been a hug and a kiss.

After some walking, there's some kind of siren. In the apartments the televisions are blaring with an emergency report, and our faces are plastered over the screen. They know we're alive, they just don't know how many of us. Being outside could get very dangerous soon.

Katniss and Cressida are talking to one another in hushed, urgent voices. Cressida takes the lead, and turns us away through a garden, and then we're back along a row of shops. Cressida starts talking about fur undergarments, which I don't understand at all. Surely she's not worried about what's under her clothes at a time like this? We stop in front of a shop that apparently sells fur garments. Are we going shopping? I thought we were supposed to be killing Snow? I'm not sure undergarments are a requirement for that kind of mission.

The woman behind the counter is grotesque. Her skin is taut, her nose surgically enhanced so that it barely exists at all. Her face is tattooed with black and gold stripes, and there are long whiskers coming from her face. This was something she _chose_ to do to herself?

_I will never understand the Capitol._

Cressida removes her wig. "Tigris. We need help." The woman is looking at us with an expression full of distrust, which isn't surprising. "Plutarch said you could be trusted," Cressida adds.

Katniss pulls off her own wig and removes the scarves from her face, stepping into the light for Tigris to look at her. Well, we have to hope she's to be trusted now. The Tigris woman actually growls when she sees Katniss, and disappears behind some fur that I suppose is some kind of clothing.

There's some kind of opening behind the furs, that leads down into a cellar. A light flickers on, and reveals the windowless room, and it looks like the only way in or out is through the small crawl space we had come through. Once we're all inside, Tigris closes the panel and it sounds as if she adjusts the fur so that the panel is hidden once again. I'm still not sure whether we're hidden or trapped.

Inside the cellar there are fur pellets that will make well enough for a bed for each of us. The others attend to Gale's wounds whilst I make a small space for myself. I'm of no use in healing, I would only get in the way. I watch Katniss' back whilst she works with tense muscles. She's not a healer, but her mother is. Once finished with Gale, Katniss crouches down in front of me and takes my hands gently.

I watch in silence as she cleans my wrists and smears them with antiseptic before bandaging them up, all with the cuffs still on. She's getting better. "You've got to keep them clean, otherwise the infection could spread and-" I know exactly what could happen, since it happened once before, and I'm not eager to relive that memory.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss." I tell her, remembering another time. A wounded leg, and looking down at the infection spreading through my flesh. "Even if my mother isn't a healer." I finish. That's what I had told her before. There's a flicker of surprise in her expression.

"You said that same thing to me in the first Hunger Games. Real or not real?"

"Real. And you risked your life getting the medicine that saved me?"

"Real," she shrugs her shoulders as if it were nothing. "You were the reason I was alive to do it." She tells me, which I struggle to understand.

"Was I?" Does she mean I had saved her life? The memories in my head jolt, begging for my attention. I tense myself, ready to fight away the trembling, the onslaught of memories. It stops, and instead I'm taken over by exhaustion. "I'm so tired, Katniss." I sigh.

"Go to sleep." I shake my head, not wanting to be left with them in this small room with no escape. Even with my hands cuffed I could be dangerous.

"Cuff me to of these supports on the stairs," I say, to which Katniss is about to argue. "Look, it's the surest way to know I'm not going to attack someone. There's not exactly a lot of fighting room in here, and I don't want to hurt anyone. But that doesn't mean-" I swallow away the tears. _That doesn't mean I won't. _

Katniss finally agrees and rearranges the cuffs so that I'm shackled with my hands above my head. I allow myself to rest, and even though it may not be the most comfortable position, I soon fall into a slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Nine

When we're all awake again and have eaten, Katniss sits us all down and tells us that she lied about the mission to kill President Snow. Coin didn't send her on this mission, but it was a fabrication of her own. Nobody says anything for a while, and I think it's to digest this information, but none of them look surprised. Perhaps I'm the only one out of the loop.

"Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow." Gale tells her slowly. Did we?

"You knew, maybe." Katniss says glumly. "The soldiers from Thirteen didn't." She feels guilty, I realise. She believes that she's the reason for the deaths of our squad members.

"Do you really think Jackson believed you had orders from Coin? Of course she didn't. But she trusted Boggs, and he'd clearly wanted you to go on." Cressida offers up.

"I never even told Boggs what I planned to do."

"You told everyone in Command!" Gale cuts in. "It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. '_I kill Snow'_."

"But not like this," Katniss sighs. "It's been a complete disaster."

"I think it would be considered a highly successful mission," Gale gazes at her levelly. "We've infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol's defences can be breached. We've managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol's news. We've thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us." _We've gotten half of our squad killed, _I add silently.

My gaze flickers between Katniss and Gale quickly. Gale thinks too much like a soldier, or a rebel. He's thinking only of how far we've gotten, of how close we are to the end of this mission, whereas Katniss can most likely only think of the people we have lost. _That's not the thoughts of an evil mutt, _I silently tell the dark corner of my mind.

Cressida and Gale are talking back and forth, seemingly trying to convince Katniss that we've done well, and I suppose in a way we have. We've lost people that we knew, but none of them did so unwillingly. Jackson and Leeg 1 had given themselves up so that the rest of us can go on, so that Katniss could go on. Homes, Finnick and Castor had been taken out by the mutts, but they had all been willing to follow Katniss along with her fake mission. Everyone had.

Katniss turns to me, "What do you think, Peeta?"

"I think … you still have no idea. The effect you can have." I admit, shifting so that I'm sitting up. "None of the people we lost were idiots. They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow." Something in her expression changes at my words, it becomes determination. She pulls out her paper map, since we no longer have a Holo.

"Where are we, Cressida?"

They consult over the map, trying to figure out how we are supposed to infiltrate Snow's mansion to get to him. That's unlikely.

"What we need is to get him out in the open," Gale says. "Then one of us could pick him off." That doesn't seem any more likely.

"Does he ever appear in public any more?" I ask.

"I don't think so," Cressida replies. "At least in all the recent speeches I've seen, he's been in the mansion. Even before the revels got here. I imagine he became more vigilant after Finnick aired his crimes." A pause, whilst everyone thinks.

"I bet he'd come out for me," Katniss says. "If I were captured. He'd want that as public as possible. He'd want my execution on his front steps." Did she get hit on the head somewhere along our journey? "Then Gale could shoot him from the audience," Katniss adds.

"No," I say immediately. "There are too many alternative endings to that plan. Snow might decide to keep you and torture information out of you. Or have you executed publicly without being present. Or kill you inside the mansion and display your body out front." He's not exactly the most predictable of persons. Katniss allowing herself to get caught is possibly the worst idea of the week.

"Gale?" Katniss asks.

"It seems like an extreme solution to jump to immediately. Maybe if all else fails. Let's keep thinking." I can't believe what I'm hearing. That he would even consider letting Katniss give herself up. I thought he was supposed to be the one madly in love with her, yet the mission to kill Snow has become more important than keeping her alive.

"Come up," Tigris' voice comes from up the stairs. "I have some food for you." Katniss releases me from the support, although I make sure she cuffs my wrists again. Upstairs, there's mouldy cheese, stale bread and some mustard waiting for us. It's better than nothing. We divide the food up between us and watch the Capitol news whilst we eat.

There's large bounties for our capture, a video feed of the others fighting the Peacekeepers and a tribute to the woman Katniss killed in her apartment.

"Have the rebels made a statement today?" Katniss asks Tigris, who shakes her head. You'd think with the resurrection of the Mockingjay, the Rebels would have something to say. "I doubt Coin knows what to do with me now that I'm alive." Katniss adds.

"No one knows what to do with you, girlie." Tigris laughs.

Down in the cellar there's more brainstorming for an idea that doesn't involving handing Katniss over to Snow, but nobody comes up with anything. The only thing we can agree on is that a group of five is too dangerous to go out in, and we can't give Katniss up before we try infiltrating Snow's mansion. I wonder whether Katniss is likely to stick to the plan should the opportunity arise. She's never been good at doing what people say.

After changing my bandages, Katniss handcuffs me back to the support and we all settle down for some sleep. I don't think I sleep for long before a dark nightmares jolts me awake. But as soon as my eyes are open the details of the nightmare skitter away from me, so that I am left with only an empty feeling. Gale turns to me and comes over almost hesitantly.

"Would you like some water?" He asks, and I nod. I tilt my head back and Gale pours a trickle of water in my mouth. There's a long pause of silence, broken only by the rhythmic breathing of the others.

"Thanks for the water," I finally say.

"No problem. I wake up ten times a night anyway." He says. My eyes move to the sleeping figure of Katniss.

"To make sure Katniss is still here?" I ask him.

"Something like that." Another pause.

"That was funny, what Tigris said. About no one knowing what to do with her." I try for light conversation.

"Well, _we_ never have." I laugh, and Gale joins in.

"She loves you, you know." I tell him. "She as good as told me after they whipped you." Memories that are mine own, that the Capitol could not alter.

"Don't believe it." Gale shakes his head. "The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell … well, she never kissed me like that." I think he sounds a little sad, but I can't be sure.

"It was just part of the show," I say, although now that he has said it I am not sure. _It was all for the Games._ My own voice comes to haunt me, but that had been after the first Games. Things had changed, hadn't they?

"No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her." He pauses for a moment, and I don't know what to say back. He really believes that Katniss loves me, or loved me. "I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then," he tells me regretfully. Of course, that couldn't have happened.

"You couldn't. She'd never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They matter more to her than her life." I say, and saying the words I know that it is true. No matter how confused my thoughts might get concerning Katniss, that is one thing I can always be sure of.

"Well, it won't be an issue much longer. I think it's unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it's Katniss' problem. Who to choose." Gale yawns loudly, reminding me of how tired I am. "We should get some sleep."

"Yeah," I shift to lay down, lowering the cuffs down the support. I think of Gale's words, and how Katniss is supposed to choose should we all be alive when this is over. "I wonder how she'll make up her mind." I think out loud.

"Oh, that I do know." Gale says. "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without." I frown at his words, and I can't say whether they are true or not.

Who she can't survive without. The way he says it suggests that it will not be a matter of love, but her actions will be motivated by which of us will better her chances of a longer life. At that moment, I don't even know if I want to be chosen.

A breakfast of liver pate and fig cookies, then we're all sat in front of Tigris' television. It's a broadcast from the Rebels, showing how they're using unused cars to activate pods down the streets. The Rebels are cutting quick lines down the streets towards the Capitol heart, without many casualties.

"This can't last," Gale says whilst we watch. "In fact I'm surprised they've kept it going so long. The Capitol will adjust by deactivating specific pods and then manually triggering them when their targets come in range." Minutes after his prediction, we see what Gale said come to life on the screen.

A car is sent down a block, activating four pods. Three people follow behind it and nothing else happens, they make their way down the street without trouble. A group of twenty soldiers are behind them, and are blown apart by some rosebushes at a flower shop.

The screen looks like an arena to my eyes, and possibly Katniss' also. I imagine people sitting around a view of the Capitol, watching the rebels moving in, and activating the pods when necessary.

"I bet it's killing Plutarch not to be in the control room on this one," I say.

Beetee gives the broadcast up to the Captiol, and a reporter lists off the blocks that should be evacuated. Not long after the announcement, there's the sound of shuffling feet coming from outside. Katniss goes to look out through the blinds, and in a crack I see a sea of people moving slowly through the streets towards the centre of the Capitol.

Tigris becomes our spy for the day and the rest of us make our way down into the cellar, which she locks behind us. Katniss paces back and forth for so long, until Gale tells her to sit down. By afternoon, the rest of us are feeling her unease. Tigris has been gone a long time. Shouldn't she have come back by now? Nobody keeps their suspicions to themselves. Maybe she's gone to turn us in, and there are Peacekeepers on their way? Perhaps she's been arrested, or injured in the wave of refugees.

She returns in the evening, and opens the panel to the smell of cooking meat. Chopped ham and potatoes. The first hot meal in days. It tastes better than I ever imagined ham and potatoes could taste. Tigris tells us how she exchanged her fur undergarments for the food, and how there are a lot of cold refugees out on the streets, who didn't think to dress appropriately. Capitol citizens haven't been opening their doors, so there are a lot of people stranded out in the cold. Peacekeepers are having to force their way into apartments in order to assign house guests.

I think of district Twelve, and how different it would have been.

On the television, some Head Peacekeeper is telling the audience very sternly that people are expected to take in guests, and how many per apartment depending on its size. The President is even readying part of his mansion to take in refugees, and shopkeepers should also prepare to lend floor space. I glance around Tigris' shop, which isn't the biggest but I'm sure there's enough room that Peacekeepers would order her to let some people in. That could very well blow a large hole in our cover.

"Tigris, that could be you," I say to her.

The Peacekeeper goes on, talking of how a group beat up some poor young man who supposedly looked like me, and now any rebel sightings should be reported. They show a picture of the victim, who looks nothing like me, except for the blonde in his curls.

"People have gone wild," Cressida says quietly.

There's a rebel update, where they show that some more blocks have been taken. Katniss instantly marks them on her map. "Let me wash the dishes," she says to Tigris.

"I'll give you a hand." Gale says, and follows her out to the kitchen. I find myself following their every move out of the door.

When they return, Katniss suggests that they should leave me behind. She quickly adds that I could endanger all of them before I even get a chance to reply. I nod my head. They have a good point. One small episode from me could undo all of their plans. But, I can't just sit in Tigris' cellar until everything's over and I'm allowed to come out. Perhaps I could go somewhere else, make some kind of distraction.

"You're right, it'll be safer if you go on without me. But, I'm not staying here. I'm going to go out on my own."

"To do what?" Cressida asks.

"I'm not sure exactly. The one thing that I might still be useful at is causing a diversion. You saw what happened to that man who looked like me." I say.

"What if you … lose control?" Katniss asks.

"You mean … go mutt? Well, if I feel that coming on, I'll try to get back here."

"And if Snow gets you again?" Gale adds. "You don't even have a gun."

"I'll just have to take my chances," I shrug. "Like the rest of you." Gale stares at me a moment, and I hold his steady gaze. I try not to think of Snow's dungeons, or Doctor Tylion and his quality time. Gale pulls the pill from his breast pocket and lays it in my open palm, leaving me to glance down at it. "What about you?"

"Don't worry. Beetee showed me how to detonate my explosive arrows by hand. If that fails, I've got my knife. And I'll have Katniss," he adds. That part makes me fidget in my chair. He will. The two of them will be together, protecting one another. _ I think it's unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war._ It's looking more and more like I might be taken out of the game. "She won't give them the satisfaction of taking me alive."

"Take it, Peeta," Katniss says. She moves closer and closes my fingers over the pill, lingering for a brief moment. "No one will be there to help you." I nod, and button the pill into my breast pocket.

I don't think any of us sleep well that night. I spend most of it staring up at the ceiling, trying to think up my own personal plan for the next day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Sorry it took a while guys! Been doing a lot of reading this week, rather than writing. Not to mention this is a pretty loaded chapter!_

Chapter Ten

Morning seems to come by before I've had time to close my eyes properly, and at five in the morning we're all heading upstairs. After some leftover breakfast, Tigris is making us all up to fit in with the crowd outside. After the hour is over, we look exactly like the refugees that are filing to the centre of the Capitol.

"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," I say gently.

Cressida and Pollux disappear through the door first, and next will be Katniss and Gale. I glance up at her, just as Katniss is turning to me with my key, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. I rub the numbness out of my wrists and flex them to taste the new freedom. My eyes stay on her face, wanting to drink in her features before I leave the shop, and face the possibility of not seeing her again.

"Listen. Don't do anything foolish." She tells me earnestly.

"No. It's last-resort stuff. Completely." I try to reassure her. I plan to move through the crowd quietly whilst keeping an eye on Katniss and Gale, only causing some kind of distraction should they fall into some trouble.

Katniss' arms are suddenly around my neck. I only hesitate briefly before my own find their way around her waist. I hold her close to me, savour her warmth that I somehow feel through all of our clothes. All too soon she is letting go of me, and we're stepping back from one another. My arms feel cold.

"It's time," Tigris says. Katniss kisses her cheek quickly, covers her face, and disappears into the crowd outside with Gale. The door closes again, cutting them away from me. Tigris and I wait in a tense silence, and then she's turning to me with a nod. It's my turn. "You gonna be okay?" She asks me, with concern in her strange face. I feel bad for my first impression upon seeing her. Tigris is not grotesque at all, she is a wonderful woman with a strong heart.

I smile and nod, squeezing her hand gently in thanks. I pull the scarf up to cover my nose and mouth, and step out into the biting cold. The crowd fall in around me, barely even noticing my presence. I scan those in front of me, looking for the figures of Gale and Katniss, but I don't see them anywhere. A bubble of panic. How am I supposed to know if they need a distraction if I cannot see them?

_Calm down, just keep going. _I urge myself silently. I might see them still, perhaps if I sped up...

The sound of gunfire is loud and explodes over the crowd. A few yards in front of me, there are people falling to the ground, pools of red spreading around their bodies. I duck into the doorway of nearby shop, looking around frantically and holding the scarf up over my face. Peacekeepers? No, it makes no sense for them to start firing upon the crowd. People are still falling up and down the street, the others are screaming and falling over one another in their scrabble to escape.

People are screaming, gunfire rings in my ears, and my hands tremble violently. I pull them into my chest, tightening my hands into fists and closing my eyes tightly. I have to fight it off, or maybe get back to Tigris' shop. The darkness fights to take over, forcing onto me images that I'm sure aren't true. Other memories comes to mind instead. Katniss. Her lips on mine. Her arms around my neck. Her warmth. The trembling in my nerves begins to calm down. I can almost drown out the screams around me.

I try to think clearly. The rebels were nearby this morning, only a few blocks away. The gunfire had been aimed at the crowd, where the Peacekeepers were mingling. The rebels must have closed in on us. The fight is nearly at the heart of the Capitol, and Katniss is right in the middle of it. This single thought is enough to push me to my feet, using the wall as a defence against the men and their guns. I fight my way forward, up through the crowd.

She won't stop, I know she won't. Katniss will do what she can in order to get to Snow. For some reason, having the rebels here makes me think that she's even less safe than before. I wonder if the old me would have been more trustworthy. Or perhaps this is part of the old me, not trusting anyone when it comes to Katniss' safety...

"Hey, aren't you..." Some boy is looking at me suspiciously. I have to push him aside so that he bowls into some other citizen, then hustling on through the crowd to put distance between us. I hold the scarf up over my face. It's even more dangerous to be me right now. People are panicked, and I would become someone to blame, a face to beat. The snow is helping, it's falling thicker and visibility is getting worse. This also means I don't know who is friend or foe until I come upon them.

There are more screams up ahead, people are crying and moaning around me, and the sound of gunfire is everywhere. Katniss' warms lips on mine, her arms around my neck. I have to close my eyes for a moment, concentrate hard on these memories to stop the trembling before it spreads. Constantly fighting the onslaught of dark memories that try to surface.

_I will not let him take over me. This is my body, it is not a weapon. _It becomes a mantra in my head. _I will not let him take over me, I will not let him take over me..._

In the next street, I come upon the bodies of people who look like they have been severely burned. Their skin is a terrible pink, and nobody is moving. Except the rebels. They seem to have poured in over the street, taking cover wherever there is any, shouting out about someone marching towards us. Peacekeepers, I think. I have to get out of here fast. If the Peacekeepers are coming to meet the rebels in this street, then nobody is safe. I scrabble to the other side of the street, keeping low and moving quick. There are still refugees wandering the street somewhat aimlessly, not knowing where to go. Occasionally, one will fall dead in the bursts of gunfire.

I make it through and round the corner, away from the rebels and their guns. There are more dead refugees littering the streets, but their deaths seem to have been more gruesome. There's blood, a lot of it. I glance down at a figure by my feet, and notice the blood streaks down his face, starting at his eyes and nose and mouth. He seem to have bled from every orifice upon his head. I move on quickly.

I'm about to move on to the next street, when the sound of boots stamping against the ground stops me in my tracks. I don't stop to think, I dive to the side and wedge myself between an overturned car and a shop door. Sitting in the dark corner, I make myself as small as I can and pull the scarves over my face so that only my eyes are exposed. They march past me, concentrating only on the street ahead of them. Nobody looks in the darkest corners for a trembling boy.

Somewhere up ahead, I'm aware of a large cracking sound, deep and loud. The ground beneath me shudders, and I dare not move until it is still again. The Peacekeepers have moved on and the ground is still again, so I stand and move forwards. Behind me, the sound of gunfire intensifies and the screams increase. It would seem the rebels and the Peacekeepers have met one another.

I almost fall beneath the ground, but manage to scrabble back and find flat ground again. I stare down the street ahead of me, where a deep hole has opened up in the centre of the street. This must have been the source of that cracking sound and the trembling. I wonder how many were swallowed up, if Katniss and Gale had made it this far … I swallow hard and try not to think about it.

Keeping close to the shops, I edge my way along the street, going slowly even though there are a few steps between the hole and I. Further on down the street, a car balances on the edge, swaying as it tries to find a balance. I could crawl beneath, but there's a chance the car would crush me and there isn't enough room to go around it. It doesn't take all of my strength to push on the vehicle before it slides over the edge, but I don't stop to watch it go.

I carry on moving, come up against no more trials on the last leg to the President's mansion. I glance around the trickle of refugees that are heading in the same direction, trying to pick out the red cloak that Katniss had put on. I fall in with a small band of refugees, keeping my gaze away from the Peacekeepers who run past us. We reach the next intersection, where the small group of refugees slow and come to a stop. I glance up, readying myself for whatever horrors the Capitol are unleashing now, but realise that I'm standing in the City Circle. Dead ahead is the President's mansion.

There's a lot of people in the centre, in various stages of shock. I have to make my way around a lot of crying and wailing people, avoid those who wander around with the shock in their eyes, and sometimes step over any who sit and ignore the snow that builds around them. I'm about halfway when I notice the barricade up ahead, and the people within. It takes me a moment to realise who these people are. Children. All of them. The shield that protects the President.

"The rebels! The rebels!" People are suddenly shouting, there's commotion somewhere off to the left and everyone slams into one another. I'm pushed back by somewhere, and trip up over a figure huddled on the ground behind me. I have to scramble to my feet before I'm crushed under the feet of the refugees.

A hovercraft appears above us with the Capitol seal emblazoned over the side. We all watch as it rains down silver parachutes on the children in the barricade. Their faces seem to light up, making the connection between these parachutes and food and gifts. The Hunger Games. The children pull at the strings, grabbing any parachute nearby, and the hovercraft is gone again. Nothing happens for a few seconds, and then some of the parachutes explode at the same time.

The snow is red, the crowd cries out for the dead and dying children. I elbow people out of my way, trying to move closer towards the barricade. The Peacekeepers are pulling at the barricades, making an open path, and people in white uniforms swarm to the aid of the children. The uniforms that they wear are not of Peacekeepers, but of the rebel medics from District Thirteen.

The crowd seems to roar in their grief, but somewhere in the bodies I hear a name. It comes from my right, and push my way in that direction.

"Prim! Prim!" I don't understand why she's calling for her sister, because surely the young girl cannot be here in this crowd? I push my way forward, and shout her name. But she either doesn't hear me, or is too distracted. I can't see her, I'm too tightly packed into the group of refugees, so I turn and push my way towards the barricade instead, where the crowd begins to thin.

Another explosion from the barricades. The rest of the parachutes. Fire engulfs the children and the medics, and shoots out towards the crowd. A burning figure catches my attention, and I stare in horror, my feet frozen in their spot. My father falls to his knees, the fire burning away at his torso, and slowly crawling up his face. The skin seems to melt away, his hair is singed away in a flash, and he's on the floor now, his lips forming my name.

I blink away the tears in my eyes, and the figure is gone. There's nothing there but snow and a bleeding woman. This all happens in the space of a second, and then the fire reaches me. The right side of my body seems to be aflame, and a scream erupts from my throat. There are more screams from the people around me, but none of them can help. The flames spread up my arm and I fall, trying to quench them with my hand, but it just burns some of the flesh on that hand too.

My neck burns and there is only agonising pain, my flesh burning away. The flames spread across my face and I can take it no longer. I succumb to the darkness, to anything that will rid me of this pain. There's a rage as fiery as the flames that threaten to engulf my face, but instead I fall into unconsciousness, where the pain tries to follow.

There's a lot of drifting in and out, of welcoming the darkness and writhing in the agony of consciousness. I don't know how long I am trapped by my own pain, unable to find my way back to reality, to open my eyes and move my limbs. Eventually, there's a new feeling. Morphling. It swims through my veins and relieves me of the agony, relieves me of everything that had troubled me. When the morphling takes over, it is just me and my own darkness, ignoring the sounds and smells that I slowly become aware of.

One day I wake and the room is so white, so intense and I can smell the medicine that lathers my skin, and beneath that, the smell of my own flesh singed away. The doctors are always there, talking about creating new skin, manipulating cells, and how lucky I am to be alive. Their hands are on my face, touching the stinging flesh and as soon as they see I am awake, a new rush of sedative flows through the tubes in my body. I cannot be awake they say, they need me to be still.

They patch up my skin and I am left to live in my own dream world, where my father sits by my side and his face is not burnt, but he smiles at me in his own kind way. My brothers come too, and Lukail brings his new bride. They tell me how the wedding was a happy affair, and they were so sad I could not join them. Even my mother comes, although she doesn't say much to me. She stands across the room whilst I talk with my father and brothers, only nodding at me occasionally.

One day I wake up and there are only Doctors around my bed. I glance around them groggily, feeling the full pain that throbs over most of the right side of my body, the stinging pain in my face. I lift a hand and gingerly press my fingertips against the bandages on my face. Up my cheek, and around my eyebrow.

"You were lucky, Peeta. The flames almost got your eye, and most of your face, but it would seem the snow quenched the fire before it spread further."

"I was on fire once before," I say with my raspy voice. "But that fire just tickled me." I add, thinking of Cinna and his pretend fire. The Doctors glance at one another, unsure what to say to this. "W-what happened? Who … won?" I ask them hesitantly. I'm here in the Capitol, in one of their medical rooms, but they've kept me alive.

"President Snow has been captured, he is awaiting trial." One doctor tells me. _Awaiting death, more like._

"And Katniss? Is she alive?" I recall her voice in the crowd, screaming for her sister.

"Soldier Everdeen is alive, and recovering from her own burns." They say no more, don't give me all of the information that I want. I have to wait until the next day, when Haymitch appears in my room. He looks at with me a suspicious and sullen expression.

"How you feeling, boy?"

"Like I was on fire," I rasp, and try to crack a smile. Any movement in my face makes it feel as if I am tearing the new skin, but it stays in tact so I carry on talking. "How is Katniss? Really?" I ask him, expecting an honest answer.

"She's got a few bad burns, like you. She … hasn't talked since she woke up, though." I frown a little.

"She's an Avox?" Haymitch shakes his head, and takes a seat beside my bed.

"No, her vocals are just fine. Doctor thinks she's choosing not to talk, kind of. A mental Avox. We think she … her sister was one of the medics sent to the City Centre, she was caught in the explosion." Haymitch pulls a face of grief, and possibly anger. I understand his feelings. Prim was just a child, she shouldn't have been sent to the front lines as a medic.

"And they think Katniss saw it all," I whisper, horrified at the thought. Remembering my father. That had been in my head though, I hadn't really seen him burning alive. No matter how real it had seemed.

Dr Aurelius starts to show up daily, telling me that he plans to work with me very hard until I've worked my way past the episodes. Tells me we're going to spend a lot of time together, and I can't help but think of Doctor Tylion and how he had said the same thing. I suppress a shudder.

Time passes by in something of a blur. I spend a lot of days heavily sedated or drugged up on morphling, teetering on the edge of madness and the pain. It seems like weeks before they finally pull me out of it, tell me that I must be careful with my new skin, but it is healing well and I am almost at full health. They let me feed myself, and I can even wander around the hospital room. There are times when they have to come in and sedate me again because the rage will suddenly explode inside of me, and I try to smash anything in my room, upturn the bed, find my way out. Some days I lay in the bed, refusing to move and ignoring the nurses and their food. I stare up at the ceiling and allow the grief to wash over me. Almost everybody I loved is dead, I have no family left, my friends have suffered, and now some of my skin is not even my own.

I think of Finnick, of his screams in his last moments whilst the mutts tore him apart. He had saved my life in the Quarter Quell, brought me back to life. But I had been useless and entirely unable to return the favour. Always my thoughts return to Mitchell. The soldier who have tried to stop me from killing Katniss, the soldier who had died because I couldn't control myself. He seems to always be there in the fringes of my mind, waiting to overwhelm me with guilt and grief.

One day Dr Aurelius walks in on me weeping, and after some coaxing I finally tell him about Mitchell, about how I am racked with guilt over his death. After telling him that, everything else just seems to fall from my lips automatically. I tell Dr Aurelius about my nightmares, of Doctor Tylion wavering over me with his syringe and malice in his smile, about what I remember in my time in the Capitol's hands, about the confusion over my own memories, ones that I'm certain are fake, and others that I do not know. I tell him of my family, and how it had been a long time after their passing before I was finally able to comprehend and grieve for them, of seeing my father burning in the City Circle. He sits and doesn't interrupt me, waiting until I've finished and taken a breath before he speaks.

"I'm going to help you get through this, Peeta. We're going to help you to deal with your grief." I believe him.

On the day of Snow's execution, someone draws a hot bath for me and I sink down into the water up to my neck, disguising the hideous burns on my body. I've barely examined the skin since waking up, and have refused any mirrors. I've caught glimpses of the puckered pink skin that stands out against my old white flesh. The new skin is still tender, and I have to be very slow and careful when scrubbing soap over it. It is only then that I allow myself to look at the patchwork of flesh. Up my arm, and along my side and ribs. The tender skin on my neck, across my cheek and up above my eye. I touch it all tentatively, washing it carefully. This is me now. The boy with an unstable mind, a fake leg and a hideous patchwork of pink and white skin.

I spend a long time sitting in the water before three people enter the room, timidly tell me that they are here to help me get ready for the events of the day. I will be expected to be present at Snow's execution, as will the others, and Katniss will draw the killing shot. They are hesitant to touch any skin, even though I insist that it barely hurts any more.

It's obvious that they're not actual stylists, but they do their best to make me resemble some sort of normalcy. They try their best on my face, but I can see how frustrated they are getting. The pink skin still clashes against my white.

"Leave it," I finally say. "There's nothing you can do for it." The three nod and step back. All they've done really is arrange my hair and file my nails, and make me look cleaner. Someone walks in the door and I turn, surprised to see Effie Trinket looking back at me. She doesn't look any different than before, except for a somewhat vacant look in her eyes, like there's a part of her mind that is stuck somewhere else.

"Effie, you're alive." I say in surprise.

"I am," she nods her head. "Now come on. We've got a big, big, big day ahead. Right now, they're awaiting you for a meeting." I follow her through the corridors that I haven't walked through yet. She leaves me in a room with a large table, where Haymitch, Johanna, Beetee, Annie and Enobaria are sat. They all glance up at me, and I take on of the remaining seats.

"Just Katniss to wait for now." Someone says.


	11. Chapter 11

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Just as an update, I plan to try and go into more detail of Peeta and Katniss' relationship, so you will be seeing a few more chapters. _

Chapter Eleven

She strides into the room and I can feel myself almost drawn to her, sitting up in my chair. Her eyes fall over each one of us, a slight frown dipping her brows as she glances around in puzzlement. Obviously not what she had been expecting, just like the rest of us. Nobody seems to know why we've all been brought together.

This is the first time I've seen Katniss since we left Tigris' shop. There's a haunted look in her eyes, but not overshadowing her usual defiance. Her face is unmarked, the same as it had been the last time I'd seen her, but with the addition of make up. The marks start at her neck, where my own gaze is drawn. Puckered, healing pink skin just like my own, travelling down her neck. The Mockingjay suit that Cinna made for her covers her up well, so I don't know how far the damage is on her skin is beyond her neck, forearms and hands.

I almost want to hide away. What does she think now, when looking at me? Does my face match the new mutt version of myself? Do I look hideous to her now?

"What's this?" Katniss asks everyone in the room.

"We're not sure," Haymitch admits. "It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors."

"We're all that's left?" It's quite sad looking around the room, knowing only seven of us made it.

"The price of celebrity. We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those though to be allied with the Capitol."

"So what's she doing here?" Johanna has a frown on her face, glancing over the table at Enobaria.

"_She_ is protected under what we call the Mockingjay Deal," Coin's voice. I hadn't even noticed her walk in. "wherein Katniss Everdeen agreed to support the rebels in exchange for captured victors' immunity. Katniss has upheld her side of the bargain, and so shall we."

"Don't look so smug," Johanna snaps at Enobaria. "We'll kill you anyway."

"Sit down, please, Katniss." Coin says, closing the door behind her. Katniss does so, putting a rose down on the table in front of her. I have no time to wonder of that, because Coin wastes no time.

"I've asked you here to settle a debate. Today we will execute Snow. In the previous weeks, hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried and now await their own deaths. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims. In fact, many are calling for a complete annihilation of those who held Capitol citizenry. However, in the interest of maintaining a sustainable population, we cannot afford this."

Kill every citizen in the Capitol? I frown down at my scarred hands, thinking of Portia. She had been brought up as a Capitol citizen, and had known no different life, but that hadn't made her a bad person. It was just the circumstances she was born in. To kill people just because of the place of their birth hardly seems fair. I notice a pair of eyes on me, and glance up quickly to look back at Katniss, but my gaze moves away, to a point across the room. A blank wall.

"So, an alternative has been placed on the table. Since my colleagues and I can come to no consesus, it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of four will approve the plan. No one may abstain from the vote. What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power."

My head snaps around to Coin, looking at her in disbelief. _This _is what she has been discussing with those in power of the new Panem? A new Hunger Games, to kill off children who have done no wrong.

"What?" Johanna asks.

"We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children."

"Are you joking?" I ask her, because surely this isn't a serious discussion. To force upon some children what was forced upon us? All those deaths, the killing, the brutality of it all – if we were to condone it, would we not just be another Capitol?

"No. I should also tell you that if we do hold the Games, it will be known it was done with your approval, although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security."

"Was this Plutarch's idea?" Haymitch asks.

"It was mine." Coin tells us calmly. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes."

"No!" I shout. "I vote no, of course! We can't have another Hunger Games!"

"Why not?" comes Johanna's voice. "It seems very fair to me. Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote yes." I'm not sure if I can believe it. Sure, Johanna has an icy exterior, but I hadn't believed her to be so cold. A small memory flitters to mind, _"tell me about Katniss." _I push it away.

"So do I. Let them have a taste of their own medicine." Enobaria's vote isn't much of a surprise.

"This is why we rebelled!"I burst out, hoping that they would see sense. Why am I the only one so far who can see what this would do to us? "Annie?" I urge her.

"I vote no with Peeta. So would Finnick if he were here."

"But he isn't, because Snow's mutts killed him," Johanna points out, which is a cruel slight.

"No." Beetee is next. "It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point, unity is essential for our survival. No."

"We're down to Katniss and Haymitch," Coin says, her eyes falling on the two.

Katniss is silent for a long time, her eyes down on the table, on the rose that she brought with her. I don't understand why it is taking so long for her to decide, after everything we have all been through.

"I vote yes … for Prim." She finally says, and I'm bowled into silence for a moment by my shock. _For Prim? _Her excuse is her dead sister who was the kindest young girl, who had to watch her sister go through the Hunger Games, hoping for her return.

"Haymitch, it's up to you," Coin says.

"You can't agree to this Haymitch!" I burst. "This is an atrocity, and you cannot let yourself become a party to it! It would be madness to vote yes!" He doesn't even glance in my direction, his eyes are on Katniss.

"I'm with the Mockingjay," he finally says.

"Excellent. That carries the vote. Now we really must take our places for the execution." She sounds too pleased. I glance at her for a second, realising that all we really did was take down President Snow, to put another of him in his place.

I stand up stiffly, shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers, balling them up into fists. I ignore the trembling, concentrating on my breathing instead. It's a small technique that Dr Aurelius had urged me to try out when I felt the rage building. Breathe, count silently, remember I am safe.

I'm directed to the front doors of the mansion, someone points out where I am supposed to stand and I wait. There's a huge crowd outside, all here for the execution of Snow. When Katniss walks out of the doors in her Mockingjay suit, and her bow in one hand, the cheers rise into a roar. When Snow comes out, they all go wild.

Snow is secured to a post, which doesn't seem very necessary. Even if he were to run, the only place to go would be into the crowd, and I doubt they'd let him pass. Katniss gets her arrow and takes position, staring at snow, who coughs up blood. Her arms shift, and I barely have time to see where to, when Coin is falling down over the balcony. I don't have to check to know that the woman is dead.

A few seconds. That's all the time that had passed. The crowd is stunned, and then the guards are descending upon Katniss, holding her back. Also unnecessary. She only had one bow, and that's sunk into Coin's flesh, she's hardly going to put up a fight.

I turn to glance at Katniss, who has lowered her bow. She's lifting her left arm, and I know instantly what she plans to do. A multitude of memories seem to surge through my mind in the space of a millisecond. Katniss on the first day of school. Hearing her sing for the first time, the silence of the birds. Quick, fleeting glances across the halls and classes at school. Katniss in the rain, huddled and crying. Bread. A dandelion. Katniss' scream for her sister at the Reaping. Seeing her on stage, trying to look so brave. Shaking her hand, wanting to reassure her. The two of us on fire, holding each others hand. Talking on the roof of the Training Centre. Wanting to hold her. Saving her from Cato. Katniss in the cave. Katniss' lips, her body warm against mine. Katniss risking her life for my own. Winning the first Games together. A kiss in the snow. Holding one another on the train. A pretend engagement. Another arena. A pearl. A locket. More kisses.

I jump forward and close my hand over the breast pocket, where her nightlock pill is hidden. Her teeth clamp down onto my flesh and I wince at the pain. She looks up, and our eyes meeting. _"Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other." _

"Let me go!" She snarls, yanking on her arm and trying to pull from my grip.

"I can't," I tell her honestly, and rip the small pocket from her shirt, the pill falling to the ground at her feet. She seems to go mad, kicking and screaming and trying to get out of the grasp of the guards. The crowd is starting to press in on us, so they lift her up over and carry her inside. She's screaming still, and I think it's Gale that she shouts for.

I follow the guards into the mansion, and try to follow behind the still screaming Katniss, but someone puts a hand on my shoulder, keeping me back.

"Please. I just want to make sure she's okay." I try to push past him, but his grip on my shoulder tightens.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stay back, Solider Mellark. Miss Everdeen is being moved to a secure location." I relax a little, and when the guard lowers his hand, I push him aside and bolt down the corridor. Other guards turn the corner, and the one from before shouts at them to subdue me. There's no hesitation before they're trying to grab a hold of me. I kick out at one of them, punch another in the stomach, but there are more hands on my shoulders and arms.

"Hold him still!" A prick of pain in my arm that startles me, but I can feel the sedative already taking over. I try one more time to push past the guards, but my efforts are slow and I'm already falling into unconsciousness.

Dr Aurelius is sitting in the chair by my bed, watching me carefully. His hair is stuck up on one side where I'm certain he had been resting against the side of the armchair. He glances up at me with alert eyes when I move my head and try to sit up. My arms pull at leather straps. Tied down again. When I tense up, Dr Aurelius' gaze flickers to the straps and sighed.

"I told them it wasn't necessary, that you would be calmer once you woke up." He stands up and fiddles with the leather at my arms, until the straps are loose and I can sit up properly. "You haven't had an episode like that in a few days now," he murmurs, lowering himself into the armchair.

"That wasn't an episode," I sigh. "That was me. They wouldn't let me go and see Katniss, they were dragging her away ..." I shake my head. "I just wanted to go see her." The man stares at me for a moment, and then seems to realise what I mean.

"You mean you ..."

"I was aware of what I was doing. That wasn't the hijacking taking over. That was me getting angry." He makes a 'hmm' sound.

"Well, that's good. That you can get angry without it being because of the hijacking. I think we're making progress."

Dr Aurelius and I spend hours together each day for weeks, going every small detail that comes to my mind. Every day I ask him for an update on Katniss, what she is doing, what is being said, where she is, if I can see her.

She's on trial, being kept in a secluded location and watched closely. They're weaning her off the morphling, sometimes it doesn't look good, she's refusing to eat sometimes. Then she eats. She sings. Dr Aurelius tells me this last piece of information with surprise. She sings for hours, and it leaves some people glued to their screens. I smile a little, and ask if he could get me a video of some of her singing.

Her trial finishes, and an ice cold fear knots in my stomach whilst I wait for Dr Aurelius to tell me the verdict. She's being sent home. _Home._ For a moment, I wonder what exactly he means by home, but Dr Aurelius seems to see my confusion and checks himself. District Twelve. Haymitch is escorting her back the next day.

"When do I go home?" Just from the look in his eyes, I know what he is about to say.

"In my professional opinion, I don't think you're ready to be released just yet, Peeta. We have more work to do, and I am going to work with you extensively until I feel you're not a threat." He tells me calmly, but my head shoots up at the last second.

"A threat?" His expression changes.

"To yourself, as well as other people. Peeta, you saw the video." He doesn't need to elaborate to tell me which video he means. "We need to make sure the possibility of you falling into that kind of state again is minimised as much as possible."

I don't disagree with him. Katniss and Haymitch go home, and I stay in the Capitol with Dr Aurelius.


	12. Chapter 12

__**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

****Chapter Twelve

_A cliff. I'm standing on a cliff, and there's a breeze that makes my hair fall around my eyes and stirs the edges of my coat. A scream. I glance around frantically, recognising the scream instantly. I don't know where she is, I can't see her. I spin around wildly, but there's nobody around. Only the edge of the cliff before me, with the crashing sea beyond it, and behind me a vast, empty landscape. The scream comes again, but this time she is screaming my name, calling for me. I rush to the edge, where the stone crumbles beneath my feet and peer over. _

_Katniss stares up at me with wide, fearful eyes, clinging to the stones that make up the face of the cliff. My heart hammers against my chest and I kneel down, reaching out my hand for her to grasp. She flinches and tries to shy away from me, but there's nowhere else for her to go. Except down. The waves crash violently against the bottom, and the water is murky, dark and dangerous. _

"_Take my hand, Katniss!" I shout over the roar of the wind. She shakes her head, lips parting to say something but no words come out. Her eyes move past me, to someone standing over my shoulder. I glance up quickly, and stop dead. _

_I'm looking at myself. A different version of myself; a hard, cruel version. He sneers at me, and then Katniss is in his arms. I look down to where she had been about to fall, but she isn't there any more. I stand up hesitantly, and the other me raises his hands, until they're around Katniss' throat. He squeezes, and she gasps for air. _

"_No!" I shout, shooting forward to pull her away from him, from me. He pushes her away, but not into my arms. She disappears over the cliff, and her scream echoes in my head. _

I open my eyes, breathing hard and looking around me quickly. A nightmare, just another nightmare. I push back the covers of my bed and sit up on the edge of it, a trickle of sweat running down my spine. I fix my prosthetic leg to the stump of flesh and make my way across the bedroom, down the hall, and into another room. Filled with paintings. It's a small comfort, seeing the paintings after a nightmare, although I don't plan to sit down and paint. Not just yet.

I'd arrived back in District Twelve the night before, after months of being stuck in the Capitol with Dr Aurelius. It had felt an awful lot like isolation, even though I wasn't confined to my room the entire time. I had no news of anybody that I cared about or loved. Nobody had heard from Katniss and Haymitch since they had left the Capitol. Johanna had returned to her District, but there wasn't much news on that front. She was surviving, as was her away. Annie Cresta had also gone home, but we'd exchanged a few letters, and in the last one she told how she is now expecting Finnick's child. She had had one final, beautiful night with Finnick before he had gone to join the fight. Gale was in District Two, and apparently a great asset.

Finally, after months of talking through everything, reliving all of my memories and a few different experiment treatments, Dr Aurelius had finally deemed me fit to return home. I haven't suffered any kind of episode in two months, but I know that it is likely that the memories will try to return once in a while. I am not completely the same as I was before the Hijacking, but I am not the entirely broken boy who had come back from the Capitol.

Light is starting to fill the room through the window, the sun rising over the shell that was once District Twelve. Many of us had returned, and in the months that I have been away there has been a large clean up done. Most of the bodies have been removed and now lay in a mass grave. Nearly all of the rubble has gone, and the next step will be to rebuild our District. I already have plans for the new Mellark Bakery.

I sink into a tub of hot water. Even the healing scars of new skin no longer bother me as much as they used to. Something else Dr Aurelius has helped me with; to accept my new body. The new skin stands out against my old, but I barely even notice it any more. My eyebrows have even grown back.

Once dressed, I wander out onto the streets, unsure where to go. I don't want to just walk into Katniss' house now, after months of no contact. I've no idea what kind of state she might be in, or what she has been going through since her return. I walk into Haymitch's house instead.

There's a strong stench as soon as I walk in, that takes me back to the days before Hazelle's help. I almost throw up in his hallway. He's where I expected him to be; passed out on the kitchen table. I wonder if he's ever slept in his bed. Greasy Sae glances up at me with a curious gaze, where she's preparing something on the side. A young girl is sat on the floor, playing with a ball of blue yarn.

"Hello, Greasy Sae," I nod politely in her direction.

"So you've come back, I see. 'Bout time, too. Getting tired of looking after these two, when they can't even take care of themselves." She inclines her head towards Haymitch, who's snoring loud, a puddle of drool forming under his mouth.

"H-how is she?" I ask her, and she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. I don't know what she expects to find there.

"She eats, because I make her. Doesn't do much else. Sits in her room, doesn't go out the house."

"She's been through a lot," I murmur. Greasy Sae makes an impatient sound.

"We've all been through a lot, Peeta. Especially you, but you're up and about." Her expression softens, a look of guilt passing over her face. "Of course she's allowed to mourn. Lost her sister, poor girl. Mother's away in another District. Doesn't have much family left. I don't know how to get through to her."

"I have some things for her. Perhaps you could … take them to her." I suggest, and she pauses a moment before nodding.

"I'll be going round to make her eat soon, so you go get them things and I'll make sure she gets them."

"Thank you." I smile, and a strange look passes over her face. I realise that she probably hasn't been thanked very much lately.

I grab the box of belongings from my house, and Greasy Sae leaves with a snoring Haymitch. After some rough shaking of his shoulder, Haymitch still doesn't stir, so I follow Katniss' example. The cold water makes him wake with a start, spluttering and furiously wiping at his face.

"Katniss, if you-" He stops suddenly, when his eyes fall on me, peering at me through bleary eyes. After a moment, he gets over his shock. "Here to kill me, boy?" he mumbles, glancing around the kitchen. For his alcohol, most likely. I quirk an eyebrow.

"Here to make you eat breakfast." I feel his eyes on me as I move back and forth through his kitchen, collecting his plate of eggs and bacon, making us both a strong mug of coffee each. I wonder how tight his grip on his knife is whilst he watches me.

"So they let you out," he comments over a mouthful of eggs, the knife to the side of him on the table. I sit across from him and nod before swallowing a mouthful of scolding coffee., "Does she know?" He doesn't need to elaborate.

"I only arrived last night, so I haven't seen her." I pause a moment. "How is she?" Haymitch shovels more food into his mouth, doesn't look at me.

"I don't know," he finally mumbles.

I frown across the table and echo his words back at him, "you don't know?"

"I haven't seen her since we returned."

I don't know what to say to this revelation. The two of them have been in District Twelve for months now, but they haven't seen one another? It seems that Greasy Sae and her daughter are the only company they've had. I want to get angry, shout at him, demand how he could possibly have left her to fend for herself after everything that has happened.

"We had a deal; to protect her." He flinches at my softly spoken words, his food now forgotten. I sigh, swallow another mouthful of coffee. " I guess we have a lot to thank Greasy Sae for." I make a mental note to go and visit her later. I rinse my now empty cup out in Haymitch's sink and turn to the slouching figure at the table. "You should finish your breakfast. I'll come and see you tomorrow." I leave him in silence, knowing he is more likely to ignore the rest of his food and dive for the nearest bottle of alcohol.

I glance at Katniss' house, but continue walking straight past it, towards the town. There are people still working at clearing up all of the mess, everyone come together to help resurrect our District. The whipping station has been removed from the centre, horse carts full of bones pulled by people in masks and gloves.

I find myself standing in front of the building that looks like a shell of my old home. Most of the rubbish has been removed from the scorched rooms, four bodies removed from one of the upstairs bedrooms. It has been declared safe for people to walk through, but I find myself stuck at the doorway, unable to move forward.

_They all died here, _the thought suddenly jumps to my mind, unwanted. The tears spring to my eyes and I have to turn away quickly, speed walking across the town square and away from the building.

"Peeta!" I blink, and stop to turn towards the voice. Delly smiles widely at me, jogging in my direction. "It's really you! I saw you across the square, but wasn't sure." She says breathlessly.

"Hello, Delly." The last time I had seen her, she had been shouting at me and it ended with me arguing with myself, so I'm surprised she actually bothered to come and talk to me. "I arrived back last night," I add.

"Where on Earth have you been?"

"In the Capitol. I've been having a lot of therapy because of … well, you know …" Her smile falters, but only for a moment.

"Well if you're back here, that must mean that you are better."

"As much as I'm ever going to be, I think." I shrug lightly and even manage a smile.

"Well that's wonderful, Peeta!" She exclaims brightly before enveloping me in a brief hug.

The exchange doesn't last much longer and we say our goodbyes with promises to see one another soon.

Whilst wandering through the District, watching everyone come and go, an idea comes to me suddenly. I'd been thinking of Katniss, and a way to try and reach out to her, find a way to help her through her mourning. A memory comes to mind; Katniss leaning over me, pointing out small details, making me change the curve of a petal. The Primrose flower, she had made me take extra care with the details of that particular flower in her book. I could find them. Katniss had gone on to tell me where they could be found in the woods, how her father had shown her as a child.

With all the clearing up, it isn't hard to find a wheelbarow and a spade, which I promise to return safely.

It's strange being able to walk freely from the District into the woods, without the threaten of Peacekeepers and punishment. Just the propped up fence to get past. Thankfully, I don't have to venture too far into the thick of the trees because the wheelbarrow doesn't glide very well over the uneven ground.

It takes all of an hour before I'm pushing the full wheelbarrow up through the Victor's Village, stopping in front of Katniss' house. At the side of her house, I begin digging up the ground under the windows, and it takes a long time. Spade in, press down, upend the earth, repeat.

And then she's there. Staring at me with haunted, sunken eyes, messed hair falling over her face.

"You're back," she says, a little flatly with the hint of surprise.

"Dr Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday," I feel like I should explain my absence, without mentioning the phone calls that had gone ignored. "By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you for ever. You have to pick up the phone."

I can't help but frown a little as I look her over. She no longer has that determined look in her eyes any more, but they're hollow shells that have seen so much horror. She looks thinner than before the first Games, and I think if it weren't for Greasy Sae, she wouldn't have eaten at all. There's a knot of worry in my stomach, looking at her now. All those months away, I wasn't here to look after her. She pushes her hair out of her face, suddenly looking self conscious.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her." I shift the handle of the spade in my hands. "I thought we could plant them along the side of the house."

She glances down, and a strange expression passes across her face. A few breaths of silence pass, and her face smooths, she nods. She flees. Turns and disappears back into the house, so that I am left to stand and stare after her. It's almost like looking at an entirely different Katniss, a shell of the girl I had last seen.

I use the effort of digging to upend my frustrations and worries.


	13. Chapter 13

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

_Okay guys, there's going to be one more chapter after this, and then I'm afraid that's the end. It's been a wonderful journey with you guys, and I hope you'll stick around to see some of the other projects I'll be taking on! _

Chapter Thirteen

That night is full of fitful slumber, and I wake up multiple times wrapped in my bed sheets, fingers coiled tightly around the cloth, sweat covering my brow despite the open window. After a few hours, I give up trying and wander down the stairs into my kitchen. I spend the hours until the morning baking, forearms covered in flour, fists beating at piles of dough. It feels good to be baking again, and throughout the night there is an onrush of memories.

Good memories.

I remember the first time my father had showed me how to knead dough, and my child laughter at being allowed to beat the mixture with my small fists. My father's smile, flour smeared across his face after we had been pretend fighting with one another. My brothers and I all baking alongside our father, working together, my mother snapping behind us. By the time all of the bread is cooked and lined up on the side, my cheeks are sticky with tear streaks.

I catch up with Greasy Sae outside Katniss' house, holding out the bread loaves for her to take inside. She looks at me for a moment, then inclines her head towards the door.

"You'll have to take them in yourself, I've only got so many hands." She's not carrying that much, and I'm sure she could have carried the loaves if she had wanted to. I think she has a different agenda in mind.

Katniss is sat in her living room, curled up on the sofa, hands wrapped around her knees, staring off at something that I don't see. The whole house is chilly, and I wonder if she dares to light the fire. She doesn't even look up when we walk in. "Come on through, you have a visitor." Greasy Sae calls when we're in the kitchen.

I pull out a bread knife and begin to saw through the soft bread, glancing up only briefly when Katniss walks into the room. Her eyes fall on me and again I'm taken back by the look in them; she looks almost empty. There's a tremor in her lips, confusion in her expression, her gaze flickering back to Greasy Sae. It's an accusatory glance, putting the blame on her for my presence.

"Peeta baked us some bread, so I thought it only polite to invite him for breakfast." The woman replies, without even acknowledging Katniss' expression. I hadn't realised I was staying for breakfast, but I sit down at the table dutifully. Katniss takes a seat, and she's only an arm's length away from me. I want to reach out and touch her, trace my fingers down her cheek lightly. I ball my hands into fists and place them on my knees under the table. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise when the ragged Buttercup stalks into the kitchen, sitting patiently by Katniss' chair, looking up expectantly. She doesn't disappoint him, and all of her bacon goes to the animal. I had always been under the impression that Buttercup was here only because of Prim, and that he and Katniss had no love for one another. Hadn't he also been in District Thirteen? I keep my questions to myself, finishing off the breakfast.

I help Greasy Sae to wash up the dishes, and when I turn to pick up Katniss' plate, she's no longer in the room. I try to hide my disappointment, and Greasy Sae places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently and turning away again. I need to give it time, but I know that I cannot give up on her.

I return the next day and the day after that, but those visits are mostly the same. Some life returns to Katniss' pale cheeks, and her eyes dance around her, as if she is only just waking.

The next day, I bring some more freshly cooked bread, the cold breeze outside making my cheeks flush. Greasy Sae hasn't arrived yet, but I know that she'll be here soon. This is our routine now. I walk into the house and call for Katniss, not expecting an answer. She'll turn up in the kitchen when she's ready. I'm surprised to see her already sat at the table, but hide it from my expression, smiling instead.

"Good morning," I put the loaf of bread down on the side, pull a knife from the draw.

"Good morning." Her voice is a whisper, and I almost might have missed her saying it, but I do hear her, and for a moment I freeze in surprise. The back door opens and Greasy Sae walks in, and the moment is forgotten.

The next day, Katniss bids me good morning again, and I think she's even bathed. I smile at her and use the bread from the morning before to prepare breakfast. We eat our breakfast in mostly silence as per usual, Greasy Sae and I making small comments in an attempt to keep some conversation going. After cleaning up, I turn to leave and Katniss is in the doorway, wringing her fingers around one another. She avoids my gaze, and then slowly her eyes lift towards mine.

"Thank you … for the bread." I smile.

"You're welcome." I leave her in order to go and wake Haymitch up. I threatened to go round and clean up the house for him, and today I plan to follow through.

The next few days pass by in the same manner, with Katniss slowly beginning to talk more, acknowledging both Greasy Sae and I. One morning, I'm caught off guard by the tremors in my hands, the twitch in the nerves up my arms, the throbbing in my head that indicates the memories wanting to push their way to the front of my mind. I have to grit my teeth, curl my fingers tightly around the back of a chair next to me. I think I hear a door click closed, but I'm too busy trying to keep control of my body.

A gasp. That definitely happened. My head snaps up, to meet the frightened eyes of Katniss. Warm memories help. Katniss hugging me before we left one another. I can unfurl my fingers, my muscles uncoiling. Katniss kissing me. The shaking begins to stop. I look up at her again, and this time I am back to myself.

"It's okay," I'm breathing hard. It's always a large effort to bring myself down. I notice that when she looks scared, Katniss seems to look smaller. "I'm not going to hurt you. I have … control." I nod to myself, my breathing slowing down.

"You … you weren't at breakfast," she says quietly.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted." I mumble, sliding my hands into my pockets. Her eyes move to the chair that I had been clinging to.

"So it … still happens? The hijacking?" She moves into the kitchen, just a few steps closer to me.

"Not often. I can control it pretty easily." She takes a moment and then nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

"I had an idea … and I thought you could help me with it. Dr Aurelius, he thinks it's a good idea." I quirk an eyebrow in her direction.

"So you called him?" Another nod. "That's good. He's very good at helping." The flicker of a smile. We both stand there in silence for a moment, "so what's this idea of yours then?"

"A book … you remember the one we did for plants?" I nod my head, remembering all those times leant over a piece of paper, with Katniss close to my shoulder. I meet her gaze, wondering if she remembers those days as fondly as I do. "Well I want to do another one. About the Hunger Games instead. About … about the people who died."

"That's a good idea, Katniss," I tell her softly, and she smiles, as if pleased with her idea.

A large box of parchment sheets arrives in the mail the next day, and after breakfast we sit down at the cleared kitchen table to begin. Sometimes we can find a photo of the person, but other times I have to use my skills and draw out the person we wish to describe. We begin by just writing out little pieces of their personality, but then the details get more intimate, anything that we can remember. It helps a lot to bring Katniss further out of her shell.

One shake is enough to wake him up this morning, the knife glinting in the kitchen light under his arm.

"Whatdoyouwant." Haymitch mumbles, wiping the drool from his cheek.

"Get up, we're going to Katniss' for breakfast." It had been two weeks since my return, and Haymitch still hadn't left his house. I don't think he's even showered, so with the aid of extremely strong coffee and a lot of patience, I get him upstairs under the water. He comes out smelling like soap, and I even find some clean clothes for him to put on.

"Oh. Haymitch." Katniss stares at him a few moments, and then she turns and wanders into the kitchen.

"Morning, Greasy Sae." I follow her, and I think Haymitch is behind me. Greasy Sae nods at me, raises an eyebrow at Haymitch but says nothing about his presence.

The four of us sit around the table, and it isn't exactly a pleasant breakfast, but there are no arguments, everyone eats their food, and there's even some conversation. I tell Haymitch about the project Katniss and I have taken on, trying to get Katniss to explain it.

"We're doing a book. About the Hunger Games," she drops some bacon for Buttercup, but keeps some on her plate. "The people. Peeta draws." I tell him a little more than her brief description, and he offers up a few comments that we can add in on some of the pages. Katniss tries to pull the book out so that we can start writing in, but I tell her to wait until after breakfast. Haymitch stays, and we find a bottle of white spirit for him.

And so we work, for days on end. We eat breakfast together, and then we sit around the table and work out the small details that we want to write down under each photo or drawing.

One evening Katniss and I work pretty late, as she feels particularly animated about the project, but she begins to fall asleep at the table. Greasy Sae left hours ago, and I'm starting to feel the soreness in my eyes that comes with fatigue. I can't leave her at the table though, so I gently pick her up in my arms like I had done a few times before. Her head drops to fall against my chest, and she's warm in my arms. I want to kiss the top of her head, kiss her lips, hold her all night. I remind myself that I have to take it slowly with this Katniss, I don't want to push her away. There's nothing to worry about any more, and we have years ahead of us so I can afford to be patient.

"Peeta," she murmurs in a half daze.

"Hey, I'm here," I whisper to her, stepping into her bedroom. I lay her down on her bed and pull her quilt up over her, watching as her eyes droop again, her face relaxing. I run a thumb over her cheek softly so as not to disturb her, run my fingers through her thick hair. She catches my hand, holds it in her thin fingers, her eyes flicker open to find mine.

"Stay with me, Peeta. Stay with me tonight." I wonder if she's fully awake, but I don't want to turn and walk away. I've been aching to sleep at her side again.

"Always," I tell her with a smile, and climb into the bed next to her.

We lay side by side without touching, and I find myself staring up at the ceiling. Eventually we both fall asleep, but I'm startled awake again by a scream. For a moment I don't know where I am or what is happening, but an elbow hits me in the side. It's Katniss, her eyes still closed, the lids dancing in the light through the window, her legs kicking at something that I don't see.

"Katniss!" I shake her shoulder, and her hand finds my face. "Wake up, Katniss!" Her screams become sobs instead, and her eyes open again, finding me in the near darkness. Her chest heaves, and I pull her to my own, wrapping my arms around her. "Shh, it was just a dream," I murmur against her hair, her tears soaking through my shirt. "Just a dream," I repeat. We stay like that until she has calmed down, and after that she falls asleep still in my arms. I drift off soon after when the room is silent again.

Every night after that I sleep in Katniss' bed, with my arms around her, warding off our nightmares. Sometimes she starts screaming, but I always wake to calm her down, soothe her back to sleep.

Our project with the book finishes, and I put most of my efforts into rebuilding the Mellark building. Blueprints are built, builders are hired, and I send off to the Capitol for supplies. Slowly, we build up the bakery and around the town, other buildings are resurrected, new homes appear, and seeds are planted. Even the meadow grows green again, although I'm sure nobody had bothered to put down some seeds. And Haymitch has geese. I wasn't expecting this when I went to visit him one afternoon, but there they were honking in his back garden, and he'd even fed them. Turns out he doesn't have alcohol in the house, and the geese keep him busy until we get another delivery.

Another few months pass by and there's a lot of building, preparing things for the opening of my new bakery, holding Katniss on a night and just getting through each day. District Twelve is even looking brand new by that time, and there's little tell tale of the horror we'd all been through.

"Are you coming to the opening of my bakery tomorrow?" I ask Katniss over the dinner table. I didn't do much at my own home, as I spent most of it here with Katniss. I hadn't slept there since Katniss had asked me to stay with her, so I only go to my own house during the days occasionally.

"Is that tomorrow? Seems like only yesterday you were planning it," she muses, spooning some lamb stew into her mouth. A special delivery we order from the Capitol every week. I laugh gently, wipe some sauce from my lips.

"That was three months ago."

"Hmm, I guess it was," Buttercup curls around my feet, and make a noise that sounds almost like a purr. He seems to have taken a shine to me, but I suspect he and Katniss only tolerate one another out of their loss.

"So are you coming?" I hitch an eyebrow, since she hadn't answered my question. She glances at me, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Of course I'm coming." I nod and suppress the grin on my face, not wanting to look overly excited.

I have to wake before the sun starts to rise in the town, wanting to have a full bakery ready for the opening. A lot of the products were already ready in storage, waiting to be put out, but I need to bake some of the fresher products. I untangle Katniss from my arms, being as gentle as I can, and creep across the room to pick up my clothes. I glance back at Katniss, but she's sound asleep so I wander across to the bathroom, running the tap for a quick wash. Pooling water in my hands, I splash it across my face and it helps to make me feel more alert, and -

"Peeta? Peeta! Peeta!" I almost slip to the floor in my haste to run back into the bedroom, stopping at the bedroom door when I see Katniss alone in the room, sitting upright with the covers tight in her fists. Her wide, panicked eyes find me in the dark, and I realise there are tears on her cheeks.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" I gasp, closing the distance between us.

"I thought you were gone," her voice hitches a little. "I woke up and you weren't here and I – I -" I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her shaking frame to me.

"Shh, I was only in the bathroom. I'm still here," I rub her back gently. "I told you I have to get up early today, to go to the bakery. It's the opening day."

"Right. The bakery. Right." I notice that she's calming down now, and loosen my grip on her. "Okay, you go back to sleep now. I've gotta go-"

"No!" She grabs my shirt in her fists, and pulls me to her again, and my heart hammers against my chest. I want to kiss her, I need to kiss her. "I can't sleep if you're gone … I can't." A pause, where I try to not think of her lips, which she chews on. "Can I come with you? To the bakery? I might be able to help."

"Okay, sure." I don't hesitate. I can't leave her alone, not in the state she might fall into, or what might happen if I'm not there to calm her after a nightmare. There might be somewhere that she can go to sleep.

It turns out I don't need to worry about finding Katniss somewhere to sleep, because by the time we've walked to the town through the biting wind, the both of us are wide awake. She even helps me in the back of the bakery; she gets the ingredients that I need and starts to mix them, I finish them off and put them in the oven. Katniss gets things out of the oven and props them on the cooling trays waiting for me. In just a few hours everything is ready, and we have an hour or two to spare before opening time.

Sitting in the back by the fire, I lean over to wipe some flour from Katniss' cheek and suddenly she's looking at me, with a rather intense expression. I hesitate for a brief moment, and opt for laying my hand on her cheek instead, stroking my thumb across her smooth skin, holding her gaze. Her eyes wander, to the side of my eyes, up to my brow and I know what she's seeing. The scars left behind by my burns, and the new skin. Her fingers stroke my face, flutter across the area of new skin, down to my neck. I think I'm holding my breath, not wanting to scare her away. Her fingers trace across my lips, down to my jaw, and I want to pull her to me, but I stay as still as possible.

And then we're kissing. It's not a hungry, desperate kiss; it's hesitant and soft. My hand finds her shoulder, and then her neck, runs up through her hair, and we're still kissing. She pulls away, glances around frantically as if there were someone to catch us out.

"I should go … I should-"

"No." I catch her hand before she can flee, and hide in a corner somewhere. "No," I repeat softly, hand cupping her cheek. "It's okay, Katniss. It's okay." She glances at me unsure, to the door for her escape, and then back to me. She nods, and lowers her head to my shoulder, pulling her body in towards me. I wrap my arms around her protectively, gently, and we stay like that until our limbs are sore and the ground becomes too hard to bear.

There aren't any more kisses for another week or so – eight days and four hours to be precise, not that I had been counting. Business goes well with the bakery, and it takes up much of my day until I can drag myself to Katniss' house, and fall into bed at her side. I decide to get some help, and hire a teenage boy who had once lived in the seam. On his first day he manages to half my work load, and is a great help with the baking, and very charismatic with the customers.

And so eight days and four hours after my kiss with Katniss, I leave the bakery in the young man's good hands and go home for a small break. I just want to sit down for a little while, reflect on the business and take a few moments to think and remember my father. Working in the bakery has made me feel even more nostalgic. I'm nearly at the door when the tremors begin, the random shaking, the tense muscles. I burst through Katniss' door and brace myself against a wall, using all of my efforts to hold it back. It had been so long, I'd almost forgotten that it would come again, at a seemingly random time. My hands are in tight fists, my jaw working tightly and I want to curl up in the corner of the wall there, waiting for it to pass.

"Peeta? Are you okay Peeta?" I think I manage to nod, open my eyes to look at Katniss. I see the understanding in her expression as she realises what is happening. She's striding towards me and I try to tell her to just go in the next room, I'll be there in a minute, but a pulsing starts in my head and I make a strangled noise instead. Her hands are on my face, pulling me to look at her. There's a fierce determination in her eyes that reminds me of a Katniss from a long time ago. It feels like a long time ago, at least.

Her lips crash onto mine, and I'm so stunned that I forget about everything happening in my body, forget anything at all that isn't related to Katniss and her lips. When I'm no longer shaking, she starts to pull away but today I am not done. My hand slides across her waist and her body is so warm against mine, and I'm kissing her this time. For a moment, she's frozen and I think of moving away and apologising profusely, but then everything about her seems to soften. Her arms find their way around my neck, and her lips move against mine.

My heart becomes a fluttering bird trapped in its cage, and the kiss becomes desperate and it doesn't stop, and I just want more of her. I don't know how long we stand pressed against one another in our heated kiss, but eventually we pull back just a few inches, and I rest my forehead against hers. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Grey eyes. That had seemed so important when I was losing myself to the madness, and of course it is because of Katniss. It was her eyes I had been remembering.

"Katniss," I sigh, arm still curled around her waist.

"Peeta," she murmurs, and I laugh, because I don't think there was anything I was going to say.

She kisses me again gently, with a promise of more kisses to come.

There _are_ more kisses after that, there are kisses nearly every day in fact. A lot of them are the gentle, comforting kisses but some of them are desperate, hungry kisses that pull us together and teeter on the edge of something more.

That something more comes along after some time, and by then I no longer visit my house in the Victor's Village, because all of my minutes are spent either at my bakery, visiting Haymitch or with Katniss in her house – in our house. For a long time we kiss hungrily and teeter on the edge, but one night she whispers to me that she wants me, wants all of me and that night we plunge over the edge. Gently, slowly, lips moving together, hands exploring the other person, soft quiet gasps in the night with our bodies pressed.

In the dead of the night with our limbs still wrapped around one another, tangled up in the bed sheets, the cool breeze from the open window raising goosebumps on our naked skin, I murmur with my lips to her throat.

"You love me. Real or not real?" For a moment, I'm scared of the reply. Doubt flashing through my mind, of her hesitating, telling me that I've been a good friend, that I-

"Real," comes the instant reply, her fingers tracing across the scar on my fact, moving to my shoulder. When I lift my head, our lips find one another, and I wonder at how I could ever possibly be happier than in that moment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View**

**If you are going to leave criticism/comments about how I have written something wrong; then please do so with an account I can reply to. **

**I can assure you that I have not written anything wrong (besides the timing of Peeta and Katniss' children in this chapter), and I had the books open whilst writing out these fanfics. Thank you. **

Chapter Fourteen

Another stroke of paint, an eye looks out at me from the canvas. The door behind me creaks open. More strokes with my brush, one colour blended in with another, the filling in of a chin. A hand on my shoulder.

"Come to bed, Peeta. You can finish that tomorrow." She murmurs sleepily, and I hold my hand over hers, pull it forward to plant my lips gently against the skin.

"What do you think so far?" Normally I wouldn't ask, but this painting is mostly for her. She's silent for a minute, and the worry gnaws at me inside.

"They look so alive," she finally breathes.

_Alive, _I nod in agreement with her answer, wondering if that means that she likes it. She had once said she hated my paintings, even though I had understood her reasoning. Lips on my bare shoulder. "I love it," she adds, as if reading my thoughts.

The painting had started off as just Prim and an elaborate bckground, but then Katniss had asked hesitantly if I could add in Rue. After that, it was Finnick. Steadily, the painting had become a memorial to all those friends we had lost in either The Hunger Games or the war.

It's going to be her present after we get married.

Two years have passed since my return to District Twelve, and our relationship had grown stronger each day. Both of our minds had grown clearer, and my episodes had grown more and more apart. It had been five months since my last flashback episode. It's no longer necessary for either of us to call Dr Aurelius, since he had deemed us both sane. Sometimes one of us still do, as he is a steady voice on the line who always seems to know the right words to say.

Three months ago I had finally proposed to Katniss, during a picnic deep in the woods, next to a lake she used to visit with her father. She had said yes and it had taken days to decide what kind of wedding to have. For a long while, we had been considering an intimate event between just us. Then it was decided that of course we couldn't leave Haymitch and Greasy Sae out.

The wedding is next weekend and Mrs Everdeen, Annie Cresta and her son, and Effie, even Johanna, are all coming for the wedding. A lot of people in the District have also sent us replies to confirm their attendance. Katniss' old Prep team had been by numerous times for fittings and planning, although I'd always been ushered hastily out of the house with orders to return in so many hours.

Tomorrow, I begin the planning on our wedding cake.

"""

Haymitch's house is much more pleasant these days. With a lot of patience, we'd gotten him into the habit of washing up after himself and throwing rubbish in the bin, rather than on the floor. I still have to come round to empty the rubbish, otherwise he'll just allow it to build up until it's close to taking over his kitchen.

Katniss throws open the windows in his house to let in the light, and some fresh air.

"Do you want to wake him, or shall I?" She asks, picking up some clothes from the floor.

"I'll try first," I laugh, knowing what her waking methods involve when it comes to Haymitch. Katniss just shrugs and continues tidying up around her, finding a bottle of white spirit behind a cushion on his sofa. I wander into the kitchen, where Haymitch is sleeping with his head on the table, his arm tucked up under it, no doubt holding his trusty knife. We hadn't quite gotten him into the habit of sleeping in a bed yet, but all in due time. Surely he must constantly have a sore neck from sleeping in such a position. There were nights when he would sleep on the sofa.

"Haymitch," I murmur, shaking his shoulder and keeping a safe distance, ready to duck away from his blade. He swung it at me one morning when I woke him up, and had had to go see Greasy Sae for some stitches. A loud grunting snore, and he falls into his slumber again. "Haymitch," I repeat loudly, prodding his side and shaking him some more.

He mumbles something incoherently and turns his head, blinking groggily up at me. A frown builds into his brow.

"It's not clean up day," he says, turning his head slowly to the other side, where there's a very low pile of rubbish.

"No, it isn't. I'm here with Katniss." She walks into the kitchen upon hearing her name.

"Morning, Haymitch." She opens the kitchen window, and I can already feel the stuffy heat leaving the room to be replaced with fresh, cool air. Haymitch just frowns, his eyes moving between Katniss and I, waiting for an explanation.

Katniss sits at the table, and I move across the kitchen to where there's still some bread left from the day before. Open the fridge, and find a slab of butter in there amongst a few bottles. There had been a delivery the day before, so he was well stocked for the moment.

"I actually wanted to ask you a favour," Katniss says, and I feel her gaze flickering to me, seeking my help. I open a draw and pull out a dull knife, spreading the butter on the bread. A huff from Katniss when she realises that I'm not going to ask for her.

"A favour," Haymitch repeats, the remnants of sleep still evident in his voice. "Thought I was all done giving you favours. Nobody needs me now." I can't be sure, but I think the last part sounded a little sad. Is that what he thinks? That now the Hunger Games are over, nobody has use for him any more?

I drop the bread and butter on the table in front of Haymitch, who picks at the edges and begins to eat them. Katniss is wringing her fingers around one another, trying to find the words to say. I rub her shoulders reassuringly, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Haymitch … I'd like you to give me away," his eyebrows shoot up. "At our wedding. With my father gone … there's nobody else I'd like to … to give me away."

"You want me to …" Haymitch starts, but doesn't finish his sentence. He's staring straight at Katniss with wide eyes. She nods, because she doesn't need to repeat it.

"It means you'll have to be mostly sober," I cut in. At this, Haymitch pulls a face but after a moment he finally nods. I can't be sure, but I think there's the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

"Okay. Sure. Yeah … I'll give you away." He scrunches his face a little, as if thinking of something. "When is the wedding again?"

"""

Katniss is fidgeting, and hasn't sat still for the last two days. Today is even worse, and she cleans the house three times over before sitting down. I make her a hot drink, and she leaves half of it on the table, suddenly thinking of something else to busy herself with.

Her mother comes in to District Twelve today, and the wedding is in two days. Katniss hasn't seen her mother since we were back in District Thirteen, I think. A few hours after her mother comes in to district Twelve, the train from District Two will be coming in, and Gale will not be on it. I think that some of the agitation in Katniss is from knowing that. We haven't talked about it much, but I know that there's a part of her that had hoped he would come for the wedding.

I glance up at the clock sitting on the fireplace and pull myself out of the armchair, wandering into the kitchen where Katniss scrubs at the pristine table surface.

"It's time," I tell her quietly, and her back stiffens, the scrubbing stops. She takes a steadying breath and nods her head.

There's not many people at the station. Today is not a big delivery day, but as with every train there's likely to be supplies and special orders coming in. Mrs Everdeen steps off the train and searches for us, and at first glance she looks exactly as when I had seen her last, just how I remember her. She gets closer, and I realise she isn't the same. There are deeper lines in her face, a haunted and sad look in her eyes, her hair is starting to turn grey. She's lost a husband and a daughter, and has likely seen a lot of tragedy since the war began. She wasn't on the front lines though, she was back in District Thirteen.

_She was too valuable. _That's what they had told us. _Her death wouldn't have had as much impact. _That's what they hadn't said. I wonder if she had known that her youngest daughter was sent into the midst of the fighting, wonder if she had allowed it.

"Katniss," she says softly with a smile, her eyes then flicking to me. "Peeta," she nods, keeping the smile on her features.

"Hello, Mrs Everdeen." She's no longer looking at me. Her eyes are fixed to her daughter. Her now only daughter. Her only family. I step away, notice a familiar face a few feet away.

"Hello, Delly," I greet her warmly, and she smiles back at me.

We have a brief conversation that consists mostly of my wedding in two days, which Delly tells me she is very excited about. My eyes are mostly focused on Katniss and her mother, who talk intensely, and then hug fiercely, and I'm sure that there are tears.

"""

Tradition dictates that the husband and wife to be shouldn't see each other before the wedding and should sleep separately the night before. This is the reason I find myself sat in the house that had once been my own, and it seems cold and empty despite the fire that had been lit for a few hours now and my bags in the corner of my room.

Katniss and I hadn't spent a night apart since that night when we started to come together again. It feels … wrong. I glance at the clock. Thirteen hours. I get married in thirteen hours. A smile crawls across my lips and there's a flutter of nerves in my stomach. In thirteen hours, Katniss will be Mrs Mellark, and I will have a wife. We will be together finally. Without the influence of the Capitol.

I'm nearly twenty years old and about to marry the only girl I've loved since I was five, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with her. Some people had commented on how young Katniss and I are, and shouldn't we wait a few years before we settle down?

I'd already waited years, and sometimes I feel so, _so_ old. I'd seen so much already at nineteen, and lost far too many people in my life. I'd lost all of my family, fought for mine and Katniss' lives twice, been tortured, had my mind hijacked, lived so long in confusion and a haze of unknown. And now I've found my way through the fog and as far as I'm concerned, I deserve this happiness.

I lie down on the sofa and close my eyes, counting backwards from fifty and getting lost somewhere around thirty. _Wedding in thirteen hours. Married, getting married. Mr and Mrs Mellark. Tomorrow I will have a wife, and right now my arms are empty, and I'll never be able to sleep without her._

I jump to my feet and pull on my shoes, throwing the front door open. I can sneak into her room, and leave before anybody else gets out of bed. It's cool outside and everything is completely still, most likely because it's so early in the morning.

I open Katniss' front door quietly, and almost jump out of my skin to see the figure standing in the hall. She freezes where she is, and then frowns in confusion.

"Peeta?" She's bent at the waist, one boot halfway on her foot.

"Katniss, what are you doing out of bed?" I ask, and she straightens up.

"I could ask you the same thing." For a moment we stare at each other, and then burst into laughter at the same time.

"Were you on your way to see me, future Mrs Mellark?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow.

"Well you're on your way to see me," she points out. I laugh again and step forward to fold her in my arms, and everything feels right again. She pulls off the first boot and we go upstairs to her bed, being careful not to wake her mother. Most of the wedding guests are sleeping in the usually empty houses in the Victor Village.

Mrs Everdeen tuts and shakes her head at us, but I can see the hint of a smile on her lips.

"You are supposed to sleeping in your own house, Peeta." I try to look apologetic, but it doesn't work well.

"Sorry Mrs Everdeen, I just find it difficult to sleep without my fiancee." _In just a few hours, I will be able to call her my wife_.

"Well you best get back, there's a lot of preparation, including getting Katniss dressed," she turns to her daughter at my side, and then back to me. "And you are not to see the wedding dress until she's walking up to you in the aisle." I kiss Katniss quickly, telling her that I'll see her in the church, not even trying to hold back the grin. She smiles back at me, and I leave them to take part in all of the preparing.

I have to go to bakery to check on the wedding cake, and make sure it's ready for the reception.

"""

I'm standing at the altar and everybody is looking at me, and looking back at them I'm awash with the memories of faces that should be in the crowd. All of the people who should be in the room, but are in the ground instead. I tug on the sleeves of my suit, tailored for me a few weeks ago with the help of Effie.

The gentle notes of a piano, and everyone in the room shifts to their feet as if on some agreed cue. And then she's there, nervously glancing at me, and then around her at the sea of faces. Her arm is hooked through Haymitch's and I'm relieved to see that he's able to walk straight, and he looks like he's only had a few drinks so far today. My eyes are on him for only half a second, because they betray me and settle upon Katniss again, and the entire time she walks towards me I cannot tear my gaze away.

The white dress is one that I haven't seen, so I know that it is a new design rather than one from our pretend wedding. The material clings to her fuller figure, the bottom trailing behind her a few inches, and I notice she's even wearing heels. Surely she must have been practising walking in those shoes, and I'm taken back to a memory with Portia, asking her to help me get down on one knee. My face melts into a grin that threatens to split my face in two, but I cannot help it. There's a shawl around her shoulders, which I suspect is to hide most of the burns on her shoulder and down her arm, although there was nothing they can do for me. People are used to seeing me with the slightly puckered skin that crawls around my face. Katniss' hair is up in a bun, with some small white flowers tucked into the strands, and her face has been made up with not too much make up, so that she still looks like Katniss.

She is not just beautiful, but she is radiant. She is breath taking, and for a moment I wonder if I'm not in a dream. Is she really here to marry _me?_

I know that it is real when she and Haymitch step up toward me, and he places her hand in mine, nodding at me before stepping away and to the side. He seems to be taking his role very seriously. I grasp Katniss' hand and she clings back, glancing at me with gratitude for holding her up, and fear and happiness and love all in the same expression. I'm certain my own expression mirrors hers.

We step up to the altar, turning to face one another whilst the priest begins his speech. There are a few cameras rolling around the room, and the highlights will be broadcast around the Districts later in the day. The world isn't quite ready to leave us alone just yet. It's the main reason for such an extravagant event.

_I promise to love you forever, I promise to stand by you in your worst moments, and carry room for you and only you in my heart and soul. _She touches my face briefly, and dazzles me with a loving smile. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes.

_There have been times when I was not myself, but even in my worst moments you have been my light, the only one able to bring me back. I have and will love only you, and I will be complete only with you at my side. You are the love of my life. Always. _There's the sound of tears from the crowd, but I have eyes only for Katniss. Her eyes shine in the light, and she lets out a half laugh, half sob. She slides a gold band onto my wedding finger and repeats the words of the Priest, and I do the same with a more feminine gold band, two diamonds glinting at us.

"I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride." I don't have to be told twice.

Our lips crash in a hard kiss and I cup her face in my hands, and some people in the room cheer, and then there's clapping, and I have to pull away, but not before placing my lips against her forehead. We turn to the smiling faces, and I see Mrs Everdeen dabbing at her eyes, and I'm sure Haymitch swipes his face quickly with a sleeve.

Mr and Mrs Mellark. Husband and wife.

We had received a request to hold the reception in the town square so that everyone in the District can attend, but we agreed on our own reception with family and friends. There are photographs taken outside of the church, and cameras are still following us, and then Katniss disappears to change out of the dress into another one. People flock to congratulate us, tell us it is about time, and they are so happy for us. Annie walks up to us with Finnick Junior waddling at her side, and a vague look in her eyes. I think that her thoughts are too busy on her own wedding and the man she lost.

"How are you doing?" I ask her quietly, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then kneeling to grin at the two year old at her side. Katniss and Annie talk quietly, whilst I entertain her son. Holding his small pudgy hands in my own, cooing at him until he flashes me a wet, two-tooth grin, I realise there's an ache in my chest. Seeing small eyes exactly like Finnick's make me want young eyes that are just like my own.

I glance up at Katniss, but look away again. It's too soon for that. _One step at a time, Peeta._

"""

I sit down on the edge of the bed, entirely relieved to finally be able to sit down without someone swarming in on me with congratulations, or asking to dance, or wondering where my beautiful wife is. A movement at the edge of my vision makes me look up, and I watch Katniss step into the room, a small smile lighting her features.

"Well, that was exhausting," I say with a laugh, and she chuckles along with me. Takes another step, and another. My heart thuds, she shrugs off her dress. "I sure hope someone helped Haymitch home," I continue. I'm rambling. She moves closer, her hands trailing up my arms now. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? She lowers herself onto my knees, her hands moving down to the edge of my shirt, which she tugs over my head. I throw it to the side, wrap my arms around her naked waist. Surely she can hear my heart from where she sits. Her gaze on mine is intense, and her tongue flicks out to run quickly over her lips.

That small motion is enough to set me over to edge and I'm pulling her head to mine, kissing her fiercely. She's pushing me back to lay on the bed, her hands already moving lower … lower. My lips at her collarbone, my hands at her breasts, a small moan.

Now is not the time to talk about children; now is the time to enjoy my wife.

"""

"I can't do it, Peeta. You know that I can't!" She snaps at me.

"But why not? Tell me why Katniss!" My voice is almost a shout now, but this isn't the first time we've had this fight. She's looking at me with that fierce expression, which hides the fear. I know why she can't, because I've felt the same fears and I've had the same nightmares, but I need to hear her say it. If she doesn't, then we cannot move past it.

"I -" she pauses, looking like a trapped animal. Like a deer in the headlights, as some would say. A deer in the line of her bow and arrow. "I can't." She finally finishes, falling back onto the sofa.

I sweep forward, lowering to my knees in front of her, hands clasping hers tightly, pulling them to my lips.

"The Hunger Games have finished, Katniss," I plead with her, and she turns to look away. I let go of one hand to put a finger under her chin, turning her face back to me. "The war is over. It's been three years, Katniss. I want children." There are tears in her eyes. "I want to complete our family, and we can do it. We can have children, and they won't be hurt. They can't take our children away from us." She shakes her head in denial, and there's a lump in my throat.

"What if ..." Her voice is a whisper, "what if they bring The Hunger Games back? Or something similar? What if they find a way," she swipes her eyes. "What if they find a way to take them away from us?"

"They won't," I shake my head and cup her face. "There won't be another Hunger Games. It's over, Katniss. It's over."

"You don't know that," suddenly she's shouting, throwing my hands away from her. "You can't tell me it's all going to be okay, when you don't know!" She's right, I don't know. I have no idea what might happen in the future, I have no clue what kind of world our possible children could grow up in.

"I don't know," I admit miserably. "But I do know that I want our family, Katniss. I want you and me until I die, and I want there to be children and grandchildren. Don't you want that?" My voice hitches, and there's no answer until I look up at her. I shoot to my feet and sit on the sofa beside her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her to me. She's sobbing violently, and her hand clutches around my shirt. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "I'm really sorry. Shh, it's okay." I'm about to tell her we won't talk about it, but I want to talk about it. I need to talk about it.

"I want children, Peeta." I freeze for a moment, not sure that I had heard her correctly. I glance down, and she's looking at me, searching my eyes. "I'm scared." I kiss her hard, and again gently.

"I know. I know, Katniss," I kiss her forehead, pausing for a moment. "I'm scared, too. But I want this, Katniss. _We_ want this."

She dries her eyes and cheeks, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb. She suddenly nods.

"I want to have children with you, Peeta." My face breaks into a grin and I'm crying again, but they're happy tears.

Months pass by and life goes on as normal, but I begin to notice Katniss drifting away from me. We lay in bed and I try to kiss her, but she pulls away. We sit to dinner, and she barely talks to me. She looks at me with hesitant eyes, and after three days I just can't take it any more.

"What wrong Katniss?" I ask, dropping my spoon into my almost full bowl. Katniss stiffens, staring down at her own bowl of food. She opens her mouth, but clamps it shut again. I sigh, rub the bridge of my nose.

It doesn't seem to get better, until we're laying in bed a few nights afterwards, and Katniss turns to me.

"Peeta ..." she whispers, and I turn my head to look at her in the small light of the night.

"What is it?" I want to reach out and touch her, but hold back. Her hand closes over my wrist and she moves it to lay my hand on her stomach. For a moment, I don't understand what she is trying to tell me, but after a few seconds it occurs to me.

"Do you mean …?" I don't dare to finish. She nods, but there's no smile on her face, no hint of joy. My arms slide around Katniss, and she's warm against me, and there's a child growing in her womb. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. This baby will be okay."

Her nightmares get worse, and I often have to shake her awake and talk away her fear. I hide my own nightmares from her, waking in a cold terror with a scream on my lips that I don't let escape. My eyes close and everything in my dreams seem perfect; married to Katniss and children running around the house. Our daughter turns twelve, and Snow turns up at our door, snatches her away from us with a smile on his bloodied lips. Other times I have to watch our child die, a small head caved in, a spear through their gut.

Katniss doesn't talk about her dreams, but I know that they're just as bad and they last until she's ready to give birth.

"""

"So, I'll box up four of those, and you want six rolls?" I ask the customer, who nods pleasantly, eyes roving the cupcakes splayed in front of her.

"Could I also have one of those?" She points to a cream eclair, and I add it to the small box. The door opens, but I don't look up. One customer at a time, to give each my full attention.

"Peeta," I glance up at Haymitch in shock. He's panting hard, clinging to the door frame. His eyes are wide and panicked, and an icy cold fear tightens in my stomach, I almost drop the box of cakes in my hands.

"What is it? What happened?" I put the box down on the counter, but Haymitch laughs and I frown.

"It's time. The baby is coming." He pants, and I'm moving instantly. I shout out to the back room for my assistant to take over, and I'm running hard. I don't even look back for Haymitch or wait for him to catch up, and I don't stop until I'm bursting into the second bedroom.

Katniss is laid on the bed, rubbing her swollen belly, her face creased in pain. Her mother is stood at the side of her bed, clutching one hand and murmuring comforting words. She looks relieved when she looks up to see me in the doorway. She had arrived in town a few weeks ago, and insisted on staying with us to help with the birth, and help Katniss and I to cope with a newborn.

"Are you okay?" I ask, closing across the room to her side, pushing the hair away from her forehead.

"It hurts. Oh god, it hurts." She sighs, falling back against the pillow. I see a slight smile on her mother's lips.

"And we're not even at the hardest part yet," she chuckles, which makes Katniss groan.

It goes on and on for hours, contractions making Katniss scream in pain and then breathe in relief when it's over. Hours of this and it's time for her to push, and her face is red from exertion, her screams making Haymitch disappear into town, and she clutches my hand so tightly that I'm sure she 's cutting off the circulation.

"Here it comes. One last push, come on Katniss!" Her mother says excitedly, and I kiss her sweaty forehead and tell her to keep going, it's nearly over.

The small cry silences Katniss, and makes me freeze in my tracks, watching in shock as Mrs Everdeen stands up with a bloodied baby in her arms. She wraps a blanket around the tiny human, and tears spill over my cheeks. Mrs Everdeen looks up at us and laughs in surprise, her own tears shining in her eyes.

"It's a girl."

A girl.

We'd made a little girl.

I have a daughter.

Something between a happy laugh and a sob bursts from my lips, and Katniss is crying too, clutching my hand. Mrs Everdeen hands over the crying girl to Katniss and I crouch down beside them, an arm around Katniss, using a soft cloth to wipe the skin of my daughter. My daughter.

"Primrose," Katniss whispers, glancing up at me with pleading eyes. I smile and nod.

"Of course. Primrose Portia Mellark. Our daughter." The word bounces around my mind, and it feels as if my heart is about to burst. Love for the small, squalling girl blossoms inside me, so much love.

"""

"Where's mommy?" the small girl pouts, folding her arms over her chest in an adorable, stubborn act. I'm close to laughing, but manage to hold it back, stroke the black hair from her face and look into her blue eyes. I had wanted a child with eyes exactly like mine, and it's what I had gotten.

"Mommy is getting your little brother or sister ready to show you," I tell her. We had tried to have a reasonable conversation with Primrose about how babies are made, without going into the gruesome details. It had turned into quite the laughable affair, with Katniss and I bumbling over one another whilst Godfather Haymitch laughed in the corner. We had tried to tell her that mommy and daddy were having a special hug, but she had burst into tears and told us that she had hugged a friend at school and she was very, very sorry and she didn't want a baby. So that idea was lost, and we had to try and cover up the mistake.

"A boy," Mrs Everdeen breathes from the doorway, causing Primrose and I to snap our heads up to look at her. "It's a boy."

"I have a brother?" Primrose asks, looking up at me hopefully. A slight frown burrows into her expression, and it reminds me so much of her mother. "Why are you crying, daddy?"

"I'm just happy, sweetie." I kiss her forehead and set her on the floor so that I can stand up. Primrose slips her hand into mine and makes me walk slowly and carefully, which she had been doing even since she found out I have a prosthetic leg. I don't have the heart to tell her just yet that I can walk fine, because her protectiveness is so sweet. We have to walk to my old house, where Katniss had given birth to our son. I'm taken back four years, to the birth of my little Primrose Mellark, all of those feelings of bliss rushing back to me.

When we walk into my old bedroom, Katniss is propped against the pillows and rocking a very clean, sleeping baby boy. I guess they had waited to clean up before coming to collect Primrose and I. I wanted to be there for Katniss through the birth, but someone had to sit with Primrose and answer her constant questions; she's becoming very inquisitive at four years old. Unfortunately, Haymitch is passed out and I think he will have the mother of hangovers when he finally comes to.

"He's beautiful," I smile, planting my lips upon Katniss'.

"He's small," Primrose quips. "Is he asleep? Why? He only just got here." She pouts, and I can't help but laugh a little. "What's he called?"

"Lukail Gareth Mellark," I tell her, and her face scrunches up a little at this information. Then she nods, as if finding the name acceptable.

I smile down at her, and my eyes move to Katniss and the new addition to our perfect little family. So happy. Life has fallen entirely in to place, and it is all so very real.

**End.**

_And there we have it! The end to my Peeta Point of View. It's been a brilliant journey with you, and I thank you for making it this far with me!_

_I hope that you'll stick by and read some of the future projects I will be posting up, and any ideas are always welcome!_

_Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it out._


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